


Cruel, Cruel World, I'm moving on

by lockedlocke



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1800s, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - gangster setting, Alternate universe - Cowboy setting, Alternate universe - outlaw setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blowjobs, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bucky is an outlaw, Building A New Life, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Inspired by Red Dead Redemption, Loki is a witch, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Starting Over, Steve is an outlaw, Top Bucky Barnes, WARNING: Graphic violence, Warning: Murder, Yee Haw, road trip on horses, steves heart is in the right place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-03-08 18:20:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 35,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18900088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lockedlocke/pseuds/lockedlocke
Summary: In the late 1800s, all that Steve and Bucky want is a new life, together. There's no place for them in the world anymore, there's no place for outlaws anymore. Following an opening in the form of a shootout, they fake their deaths so the gang leaves them behind and wont come looking for them. What follows is their journey to make a life that will be theirs, just theirs alone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whatthefoucault](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthefoucault/gifts).



> Welcome to my contribution to the CAPRBB of the year 2019! 
> 
> Inspired by my lovely artists work and the video game Red Dead Redemption and it's sequel, I bring you Cruel, Cruel world, I'm Moving on. Title taken from the RD2 Soundtrack, the song Cruel, Cruel world, which embodies what Steve and Bucky go through during this fic. 
> 
> My artist for this years work is [whatthefoucalt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthefoucault/profile) here on ao3, which the fic has been gifted to. They can also be found under the same URL on tumblr [here!](https://whatthefoucault.tumblr.com/)
> 
> CCW has been beta'd with the wonderful help of [charlesdk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlesdk/profile) here on ao3, who you can find on twitter under the handle [@mlmsrogers](https://twitter.com/charlesorensen). 
> 
> Further, you can find me on twitter under the handle [@nix_gabriel](https://twitter.com/nix_gabriel) if you want to keep posted about my other fic projects!
> 
> \---
> 
> In this chapter, no additional warnings.

 

\--

 

 _Cruel, cruel world, must I go on?_  
_Cruel, cruel world, I'm moving on_  
_I've been living too fast_  
_And I've been living too long_  
_Cruel, cruel world, I'm gone_

 _This big ol' world sure got me running 'round_  
_I heard a voice that said, "Just settle down"_  
_And with the moonlight as my guide_  
_And with this feeling deep inside_  
_I know now that I am homeward bound_

 

\--

 

When the first drop of rain hits his cheek, Steve dares to open his eyes. The sky has been growing dark but still offers enough light to make out the scene around him. He tilts his head to the side where Tony and the others have ridden off to and sees nothing but trees.

Steve sits up with a hiss, the shift in his thigh setting the burn back in action. Steve mutters a couple of curses under his breath. There is a dark stain on his right leg and Steve doesn’t have to check the backside of his thigh to know that the bullet hasn’t shot through. Grunting in annoyance, Steve rolls over to his side and places both of his hands on the grass and pushes himself up. He keeps his injured leg stiff and when he stands up, he does so clumsily.

The scene around him would have unnerved others, he catches himself thinking, but not him. He has seen death far too many times by now and has started to greet it as an old friend. Around him are the corpses of at least nine other men and one woman. The stench of blood still hangs in the air and Steve thinks that he can still taste all the gunpowder hanging in the air.

“Jesus,” Steve grunts under his breath and bends down to pick up his hat and gun. It looks remotely unscatched and now with the raindrops starting to fall a little bit faster, he opts to put it on rather than have his hair grow wet. The gun he puts back in its holster. “Bucky?” Steve calls out and straightens, looking around the scene and trying his best not to pay too much attention to the members of the now formerly known as Rumlow’s gang scattered around.

“Bucky?” Steve calls again and begins to walk, or rather, limp towards the cabin that has without a doubt been where Rumlow have been sleeping. Too good for a normal tent, unlike the rest of his members who had to cater for him. Every step that Steve takes makes him remember the striking pain in his leg and the bullet lodged in it. They’ll have to get it out somehow but that is a worry for later.

“Buck, you in there?” Steve asks and grips hold of the railing to pull himself up the few steps to the cabin. Last he had seen of Bucky, he had gone into the cabin while the others had been shooting, of course, he had a personal vendetta with Rumlow that nobody was going to deny him. There is a worry, of course, that Bucky isn’t alright and that he is bleeding or even dead. But Steve tries not to think about that, Bucky has skills and he would have used them. It was Bucky’s plan, of course the man who had made the plan would be alright and safe.

The door is open on a creak and Steve hears the shuffle of feet within. He reaches for his gun and pulls it out of the holster, gently placing his other hand on the door and slowly pulling it open. There is a flash of metal and Steve aims his gun and cocks it.

“Oh, it’s you.” Bucky is kneeling beside what appears to be Rumlow’s corpse. Bucky’s hair is a mess and his shirt no longer shows a hint of originally being blue. Bucky lowers his revolver and uncocks the gun. “You scared me.” Steve snorts in response, shuffles into the cabin, and leans against the doorway to give his leg a rest.

“You got him then?” Steve asks and nods over to the corpse of the man they once knew, it feels a stupid question but necessary to ask nonetheless. Bucky nods, shifts one of his knees on Rumlow’s throat, and puts both of his large hands around the knife that is sticking out of his sternum.

“I did.” Bucky pulls at the knife with all of his strength, Steve can see how it slides out just a little but remains stuck. Rumlow on the other hand, lifts off the floor. “Now the bastard won’t give me back my knife though,” he pants and pushes his hair out of his eyes with a bloodied hand. He glances to Steve, eyes taking him in from toe to hat, and pauses at the stain on his jeans by his thigh. “Come help me hold him down?”

Steve shuffles away from the doorway and moves over to Bucky. Slowly he lowers himself down to the floor with another hiss and bends his good leg, letting it come to rest over Rumlow’s stomach and putting his full weight on it. “You took one?” Bucky asks absentmindedly, regrips on the handle of the knife and pulls.

Rumlow wants to move along with the pull, Steve can feel it, so he just leans more forward. Rumlow goes back against the floor. Bucky wiggles the knife a little, and then in one quick, almost violent movement, he pulls the knife free and flies back with the same amount of force he’s put into pulling the knife out. He lands on his ass and his bloodied hair comes back in front of his face. The sight of it makes Steve laugh.

“Ass,” Bucky grumbles annoyed, cleaning the blade of the knife on the last bit of unbloodied shirt that he can find on him and tucks it away. He pushes his hair out of his eyes again and nods to Steve’s right leg. The walk over to the cabin has made the stain darker and bigger. “You alright?”

“It’ll be fine, just gotta take it out. It didn’t go through.” Steve informs him and leans backwards, letting himself now come to a sitting position on the floor and feeling the numb throbbing pain in his leg. He sighs and pulls a face. Bucky lets out a groan at that and scrambles back up to his feet.

“Fucking hate it when they don’t go through. You want me to fish it out?” Bucky asks him and offers Steve a hand to stand back up. At first Steve isn’t inclined to accept it, he wants to sit down for a moment and take a breath, just rest. Bucky of course is eager to get going, with all the right. They don’t know if anyone rode by in the area and heard the mass of gunshots from about forty people, sped up and went ahead to alert the local law in the nearby town. Whitely is only a fifteen minute ride away from where they are.

So a little against his will, Steve takes Bucky’s hand and lets Bucky pull him up. Luckily, Bucky also puts Steve’s right arm around his shoulders and slides an arm around his back, Holding him close and offering him support on the side that can’t carry any weight right now.

“Yes please,” Steve mutters. He could fish out the bullet himself but he hates it. Even so, Bucky is better at it, going about it with a methodical precision that makes the process a whole lot smoother than Steve ever can manage. Besides, if Bucky does it, then he can drink half a bottle of bourbon to numb the pain. “You think there’s anything left on them to find?” Steve asks as Bucky drags them both down the stairs and out to the scene of the massacre.

“Nah, Stark and the others came and checked us over in there. Rhodey took my watch. If they checked us, then they’ve checked them,” Bucky comments and starts moving them towards the edge of the forest where they had fallen out from earlier in the evening.

“They didn’t check me,” Steve comments and looks to Bucky. It’s raining heavier now for both good and ill. The blood is being washed out of Bucky’s hair but it’s making his face look red with it and he doesn’t seem to care that much.

“That’s cause they know you got nothing of value that you didn’t share with them.” Bucky pauses and takes one step over a small, dead log of birch tree and gives Steve the time he needs to get his bad leg over it. Steve makes a noise of unwilling agreement because Bucky’s right.

Steve has always poured his heart and soul into the gang. He has given them everything and keeps little to no valuables for himself. Even the loot that he got from robberies of homesteads, trains, the few banks they dared to attack, that had been his to keep, he gave to the gang. Sure enough, every now and then, he’d buy some new clothes when he was in dire need and a pair of jeans were beyond fixing. Repaired a saddle or a book for little Peter when May wasn’t been able to get it for him. But Steve has never ever kept anything for himself. Fat load of good it has done him.

Tony wanted more and more and Steve gave it. Then Tony lost everything in a gamble, trusting someone he claimed to know and that it was the right horse to bet on, and they lost everything. Near ten thousand dollars. Steve still doesn’t understand how Tony believed they’d get the money even _if_ they won the bet. He is a bright man on many aspects but on some Tony is downright idiotic.

He feels how Bucky squeezes his side to pull him out of his little bitter daydream and back to reality. Steve pushes the thought away to the far back of his mind. None of that matters now, none of it. The gang thinks they’re dead and they can be free, just like they wanted to. They don’t have to live on the edge of society anymore. It has taken Steve nearly twenty years to realise but maybe the average life with an average job isn’t all that bad. No law, no bounty hunters, no constant risks of fights within the gangs and breaking up, sometimes friendly so, sometimes with guns.

Steve squeezes Bucky’s hand that keeps his arm in place over Bucky’s shoulders and is grateful that he’s having this start with Bucky. He doesn’t have to go about it alone. He has him by his side, together they’ll figure it. Together they’ll have to. Neither of them has ever lived any other life than that of an outlaw and they’ll need one another to make it work.

 

\--

 

Bucky supports Steve all the way back to the horses that are grazing along contently just where they left them behind. Steve tries not to think of how much fun it’ll be later to clean the bit of the bridle. But Lily raises her head at the sight of them and makes a snorting sound, her ears peak and slowly she steps over to them, happy to see Steve again. The appaloosa, white coated with hundreds of little black spots over her body, reaches up to Steve and nudges his hand in the hope that he has a treat for her.

“I’m sorry girl, I got nothing,” Steve tells her. Bucky lets go of Steve, ensuring that he’s got a hold of Lily instead, and goes over to his own horse, Bo. The beautiful mustang with the deep grey colour doesn’t lift his head when Bucky comes near but keeps grazing, though he nickers when Bucky pats him on his neck.

“You good enough to ride with that leg for a bit till we get our stuff? I got a set of pliers in my bag,” Bucky asks Steve, who shrugs in response. He tries to give Bucky a courageous smile though, not that it says much. The pain is still throbbing and Steve is getting sick of it. But this isn’t the place to make up a fire, it’s best they do it later.

“Should be, as long as we take it slow,” Steve gives a little white lie in response. Truth is he’s not sure how well he’ll be able to ride. He knows he sure as hell won't be able to gallop away, and trott? Just the idea of it makes his leg hurt even more. Bucky looks sceptical at that but doesn’t fish deeper. “Help me up though?” Steve asks and nods to Lily, who’s gone back to grazing.

Bucky comes back over to Steve, takes the reigns of Lily to keep her in place, and looks back down at Steve’s busted leg. “How do you want to do this?” Bucky asks him, suddenly unsure. Lily throws her head up and nickers, then nudges her head to the back pocket of Bucky’s pants in hope that, unlike Steve, _he_ does have treats. Bucky doesn’t and he reaches back to shove her head away. Lily nickers again, this time more annoyed with him.

“Uhm, just…” Steve shifts a little and grabs the pommel of his saddle, turning his body towards Lily’s. “Just give me a lift up, should be able to manage then,” Steve tells him, Bucky nods and passes Steve the reigns, he then kneels down a bit and folds his hands together for Steve to put his boot in.

Once Steve puts some weight into Bucky’s hands, Bucky stands up and lifts Steve up just enough for him to be able to throw his injured leg over Lily’s back. He hisses when he comes down in the saddle and massages his thigh just above the wound. “You okay?” Bucky asks, pats Steve’s arm, and goes over to Bo.

“Yeah, just hurting like a bitch,” Steve admits and manages to shuffle his foot through the stirrup. He winces a little at the feel of how his leg has to move but once settled, he relaxes and Steve finds that it doesn’t hurt much at all. Bucky, with all his elegance, mounts Bo with no such handicap and lands himself in the saddle. He turns Bo, who in almost lazy, sluggish movements walks in that half circle and faces Steve.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Bucky gives Bo a light set of nudges in his flanks and sets the horse moving. Bo raises his head, now suddenly more awake, and sets off right ahead of him. Steve doesn’t have to give Lily the same encouragement, the flock instinct of her kicking in action, she turns of her own accord and starts to walk after Bo.

They walk slowly through the woods in the dark. There isn’t a lot of moonlight available so it’s smarter to let the horses find their own way rather than race them through it and break a leg as a result. Once Bucky finds them the path they took previously, he speeds them up to a trot. Steve follows, with no complaints even if it feels like his leg is set on fire as a result.

 

\--

 

“You need help coming down?” Bucky asks when he dismounts Bo in the early hours of the morning. The sun is rising and there’s a light fog through the trees, making everything feel cold and damp. Steve’s exhausted and wants to do nothing but just lay down and sleep for three days.

“Uhm,” Steve murmurs and looks down. His right leg is throbbing now and it doesn’t feel like he can move it. Sure as hell not enough to slide off the saddle with some sort of finesse. So what the hell, he’s been shot, he hasn’t complained much until now, except for that one point when he asked Bucky to ride a bit slower. “Yeah, yeah help me down,” Steve decides, feeling heavy all over.

Bucky comes over to him and reaches up for Steve, gesturing for him to trust him and just slide down the side. Steve does and just like he knows Bucky will, he catches him. Bucky sinks a bit through his knees but neither of them fall to the ground. Steve lets out a cry of pain however when his leg comes down and hits the ground.

“Right, we’re getting that out,” Bucky tells Steve, drags him a bit further away, and helps him sit down under a tree. The moss is a bit wet and Steve whines as it wets his pants a bit. He’s tired and he’s been in pain for all of the night by now, he allows himself to do that. “You stay right there,” Bucky points at him and walks away. “I’m getting some wood for a fire, and then I’m digging up our stuff,”

“I can help,” Steve argues stubbornly. Bucky just laughs, downright ignores to give him a response, waves him off, and disappears into the woods. Steve huffs in annoyance and sits under the tree for a little moment, letting the pain ease a little bit by allowing his leg some rest. He wonders absentmindedly if he’ll ever be able to wash the stain out or if he’s best to just throw the jeans away.

He knows what Bucky will say, _just throw em Stevie, the point is not to be recognized you idiot,_ and he would throw the pair that they had packed in the bag at his face. A new pair that had cost far more than he had wanted to give for it but one look at Bucky shut him up and he paid the seven dollars for it.

Steve waits for what feels like ten minutes before he gets restless. He looks at the horses, now grazing again at some pieces of grass in between some moss and twigs, they blink tiredly both of them, and it occurs to Steve that he should at least try to take off their bridle. Bucky would disapprove, but then again, when doesn’t Bucky disapprove? It beats just sitting around.

With help of the tree, Steve manages to stand again. Walking is harder now than it had been the previous evening. Lily doesn’t startle when Steve suddenly leans up against her side and begins undoing the straps to her bridle. She lets him, being a good girl and standing still while Steve clumsily fumbles and then removes it from her head before dropping it on the ground. She shakes and then goes back to grazing, now freer than before.

Steve takes a breath and glances over to Bo. The other horse doesn’t like him much for some reason that’s beyond Steve. Bo’s very much a one person horse which Steve can kind of guess stems from the fact that Bucky caught and wrangled Bo himself, and thus he has been the only human to form a bond with him.

When Steve reaches over and leans against Bo, he makes a sound of distress and raises his head quickly, laying his ears flat on the back of his head. Underneath him, Steve can feel how all eight hundred pounds of muscle tenses up underneath his arm and to his side. “Easy boy, I’m just going to take this off,” Steve tells him gently, not reaching for the straps on the bridle just yet. Bo has been known to both bite and kick, something that might have made the entire gang laugh whenever Sam went to close, Bo hates Sam with a passion. Neither of those things are something that Steve is in the mood for.

“Easy now,” Steve says in a low hum and gently strokes his hand up Bo’s neck to the straps. The horse doesn’t move and stands still. Steve doesn’t doubt that Bo is fully aware of what Steve is doing, just as much as Steve’s aware that Bo would much rather his human do it. Steve loosens the straps and removes the bridle. Bo pulls his head away quickly and steps away, nearly making Steve lose his balance at the sudden disappearance of his support. He drops the reigns in the grass just as he hears Bucky call out for him.

“What the hell are you doing? I told you to sit down.” Bucky appears with his arms full of wood, cheeks flushed with either having carried the weight of the wood around or from anger. Steve has a sneaking suspicion that it might be a little bit of both.

“You did no such thing!” Steve argues back, then gestures to Bo and Lily. “I took off their bridles,” he informs Bucky, sees how Bucky looks at the animals and huffs in annoyance. He drops the firewood to the ground.

“Well, if you’re so damn persistent on being useful, you start piling this up so we can make a fire. I’m going to go dig up our stuff and you stay down when you’re done,” Bucky warns him with a lecturing finger, then sets off in a different direction of the woods. Steve drops down into the grass and starts piling up enough wood to make a small fire, scraping away around it to remove the moss and grass from it so they don’t cause a forest fire.

When he’s used about half of the wood to make a little pile and sorted the rest a bit further away, he looks over his shoulder to see how Bucky is doing. He’s digging away on the ground with both of his hands, eventually pulls out Bucky’s small chest by one of the handles, and drags it over to Steve.

“How far you think Stark and the others are now?” Steve asks as he watches Bucky open the lock and then the chest. He shrugs noncommittally, as is the way of Bucky Barnes and starts to rumble through the chest. He passes Steve a little box of matches. Steve instantly works on getting the fire going.

“Fuck knows, and honestly Stevie, I don’t really care. Drink,” Bucky says and passes Steve a bottle of bourbon next. Steve looks at the bottle and frowns, it was meant to be their celebratory drink for the both of them. To celebrate getting away, it wasn’t meant to be opened yet. But the tone that Bucky uses leaves no room for argument so Steve opens the bottle and takes a couple of large gulps.

He’s not a fan of drinking, he’s not a fan of how it dulls all of his senses and sets fire on his temper. But if Bucky is going to pry a bullet out of his legs, he would very much like to be a little bit buzzed so it doesn’t hurt as much. Beside them, the fire is picking up and starts to radiate some heat, chasing a little bit of the chill out of Steve’s bones. He watches Bucky search for the pliers and shifts a little so he can look at him properly and place a hand on the back of his head. “Hey,”

Bucky glances at him, a ghost of a smile comes over to him. The only thing that gives it away are the lines by the corners of his eyes that become more visible. There’s still some streaks of blood in his face which they’ll have to find some water to wash off. “Hi,” Bucky responds to him. Steve smiles a little and pulls Bucky in for a soft kiss. He doesn’t get much reaction out of him at first, but eventually Bucky caves and kisses him back. Even if it’s just short, even if it’s just a little bit more than a peck.

“Relax some, okay? We made it,” Steve tells him, knowing full and well that Bucky doesn’t like to take out his victory in advance. But for as far as Steve’s concerned, they made it. The gang thinks they’re dead, otherwise they would have loaded them on the back of someone’s horse and taken them back to camp. And they didn’t suspect betrayal, or else both of them would have bullets in their heads. They’re going to go far, far away from where Tony had wanted the gang to go. Of course, his thoughts and plans were as fickle as a nervous doe but Steve has no reason to believe that Tony _wouldn’t_ go ahead with the second part of his plan and ride for Nevada to get away.

Bucky lets out a deep sigh and looks back to the chest. “I’m sorry,” he says, and then pulls out the pliers and pulls a face, showing it to Steve. “You ready?”

Steve winces at the idea and takes two more large gulps of the bourbon. It burns his throat a little, but the sudden wall of fire that comes over him makes him believe that he can do it. He’s done this before, this isn’t the first time he’s been shot, he can do this, it’s not that bad. “Yeah, yeah lets do this, let’s get this over with,” he tells Bucky and gestures to his leg.

Bucky tears open the hole in the jeans a bit further. Takes the bourbon and pours it over the wound to wash away the blood and to disinfect it a little. He wipes at Steve’s leg a little, enough to make the bullet hole clear and visible. He pours a bit of bourbon over the pliers and looks up to Steve who nods.

Bucky spreads the wound a little with his fingers and Steve bites back a cry. Then, with little to no finesse, Bucky jams (or so it feels like) the pliers into Steve’s thigh and begins to dig around. Steve tries to bite back the second cry but fails to do so. Bucky isn’t a doctor, hell he isn't even a dentist. Neither of them have any experience like that but what life has taught them.

As Bucky digs the pliers around in the wound, it starts to bleed fresh, dark red blood. Staining Bucky’s fingers and hand and making it hard to see what he’s doing. Somehow, Bucky manages however. With a strong pull, Bucky yanks out the pliers and shows Steve the bullet that had been lodged in his flesh. Steve only whimpers and feels a little sick at the sight of it.

Bucky just drops the bullet in the grass and takes his knife from his belt. “I’m ruining my knife for you now, you remember that if you dare to complain about the burn,” Bucky points out to him and puts the blade in the fire, as close as he’s able to keep it without burning his own hand.

“Won’t complain,” Steve promises him and drops himself back against the damp grass. Now when he shuts his eyes and drapes his arm over it to block out the sunlight, he’s suddenly reminded of how tired he really is. It’s not that much of a wonder really, he’s been up for at least twenty-four hours.

Bucky snorts but doesn’t respond to Steve just yet. He keeps his eyes on his knife in the fire. They sit like that in silence for at least five minutes, Steve dozing on the grass and Bucky massaging his leg. It’s already starting to feel better now with the piece of metal out of it. Steve just hopes that they got it out soon enough to stop it from getting infected. He tries not to worry, he’s not given any time to worry. Because the next thing he feels is an excruciating white, blinding pain against his leg as Bucky presses the heated up blade against the bullet wound to burn it shut.

Steve screams in surprise and jolts upright. He tries to pull his leg away but Bucky just pushes him right back down and keeps the blade pressed firmly against the wound. When he pulls it away the flesh is burned and angry, stinging beyond belief and Steve suddenly feels wide awake as if he’s taken something with cocaine in it. “Jesus Christ give a man a warning would you?!” Steve shouts at Bucky the moment he can actually roll away from him and presses his hand to the wound which equally hurts as it feels wonderful.

“I thought it’d hurt less if you were off guard!” Bucky shouts right back at him, then raises the blade of the knife to him which has now nearly gone back to its original silver color. “My knife Steve, don’t complain,” Bucky warns in a tone that hints that he’s low on patience. Steve just waves him off and decides not to fight him on it anymore. Bucky turns into an asshole when he’s tired and he’s doing everything so far without Steve actively helping him.

“Just get the tent up,” Steve tells him and stands up. Standing is easier now. The pain is sharp but he feels more in control of his leg. It strikes him how funny it is that just removing a bullet from it can do so much. Bucky mutters some curses under his breath and turns his focus to their chest while Steve, with his limp now back, goes to Lily to unsaddle her.

The first thing she does when Steve lifts the heavy piece of leather off her is kneel down on her front legs, then the next thing Steve knows she’s on her side and rolling around. “Yeah, bet that feels nice,” he says to no one in particular. He eyes Bo and decides that he doesn’t want to test his luck, so he goes over to the chest to pull out their blankets and tosses them to Bucky who by then has made a makeshift tent for them.

“You want some food before bed?” Steve asks and places both of his hands on his knees as he looks through the contents of everything they brought. Deep down he knows they shouldn’t touch their food. That the tin cans of beans would be for emergencies or real harsh weather. And the two cans of peaches were their dessert for one particular day. They had agreed to live off the land until they settled, hunting, fishing, berries, there was a lot if you learned how to look. But in this particular moment, Steve is starving and ready to throw that promise out of the window already.

Bucky sighs and chucks their blankets under the tent. He places both of his hands on his hips and watches his creation. By the way that he chews on his bottom lip, Steve can tell that Bucky’s really considering it. Then he nods. “Alright yeah, yeah warm up a can or something, we’ll split it.”

Steve claps his hand in excitement and takes out one of the cans, covering the rest of the contents with Bucky’s shirt. They haven’t taken along that much. Essentials they were able to pack on the horses. Such as their camping gear. A bit of food. A collection of knives for Bucky. A few packets of ammunition. Steve’s journal with his sketches. The one novel that Bucky owns and has read over and over, the binding having fallen apart a long time ago and now fixed with a new leather one. Bucky has lost a couple of the pages and complains each time he reaches that part in the novel. But there are also a few valuables.

Loot that they stashed away from robberies and jobs, neglecting to tell the gang near the end. There are some jewels, necklaces with fine emerald stones and a couple of rubies that Steve has decided not to ask Bucky where he got them from. There is a small ingot of gold and their coin purse. Up in some tree, Bucky has even hung up a bow and a couple of arrows. Amongst themselves, they probably have about five hundred dollars to make due on, which should serve them fair and well.

“Here,” Steve says and grabs the watch that he didn’t cover with the shirt and tosses it over to Bucky who catches it with both of his hands. “Might as well have that one now, not like it’s worth that much anyway.” Steve sits down by the fire and takes out his knife, poking through the tin at the top to open it up. They didn’t pack a pot to cook in, not wanting to be obvious, so they have to make do. Steve, careful not to burn himself a second time that day, puts the can at the edge of the fire to have it cook.  

“You think it’s six thirty-eight now? That sounds about right, doesn’t it?” Bucky asks Steve as he walks over to Bo, setting the watch. Steve’s answer doesn’t matter, Bucky seems content with his own. So Steve just turns to watch how the man unsaddles his horse and watches how Bo is so much friendlier when Bucky handles him. He becomes like a large puppy. When Bucky finally removes the saddle, the horse takes a short dash off and kicks out with his hind legs. Bucky just laughs and puts his saddle down next to Steve’s. He absolutely adores that sound.

“How we looking on food Rogers?” Bucky asks him and comes to sit down beside Steve.

 

\--

 

“So,” Steve swings himself up onto Lily. His leg still hurts but ever since Bucky took out the bullet and burned it shut, he’s been able to move it with more freedom like he wishes. By the time that they woke up a few hours after having gone to sleep, it had felt entirely different already. After an additional night of rest, Steve’s limp has even improved more. It’s still there but not as obvious. It isn’t infected, like Steve feared. “Where are we heading?” Steve asks and adjusts his hat one final time.

Bucky adjusts his strap to his packing, then mounts Bo and looks out over their now broken down campsite. Only noticeable with the trampled grass and the fire pit they dug for themselves. “I don’t know,” Bucky flashes his teeth to Steve in a grin and turns Bo. “Guess I never really thought about it, you know?”

Steve nods, he hasn’t either. He hadn’t wanted to, out of fear of  disappointment, out of fear of death. That the plan just simply wouldn’t happen. It had been a two parter in that aspect. First one had just been to break free of the gang and to live to tell the tale. Now they need to figure out the second part of their plan, where to go next. When they discussed their dream, the dream changed every single time. Sometimes it was woodland, sometimes it was a desert, sometimes it was out in the bayou. One drunken time it had even been out in the city.

“Well, we shouldn’t go East,” Steve begins and gives Lily taps in her flanks, slowly she starts to walk. Bucky rides up beside him and at a slentering pace, they ride through the woods. “If Stark’s going there, we shouldn’t go East. We should stay away from him.”

Bucky nods in agreement. “I don’t want to go South West either. I don’t want to go back to the Bayou. The fucking mosquitos kept eating me alive and kept making me sick.” Bucky frowns and Steve giggles a little at the memory of Bucky shirtless, covered in red angry bites that he kept scratching to the point of leaving some scarred on him. For every bite that would heal, two more bugs would bite him. And every night Bucky would toss and turn and scratch and wake up to bloodied blankets to sleep on. He ruined a couple of shirts like that and he couldn’t wear black or he’d sweat to death.

“Mexico is…” Steve shakes his head.

“Mexico is a shithole,” Bucky fills in for Steve with a bright and happy laughter. Steve gives him a shove which makes the laughter turn into giggles. But he can’t help but smile at Bucky a little. Bucky is right, he’s just the one to actually say it out loud as always. Steve’s more reserved like that, more tactful. Less with his fists however and easily lashes out at those who deserve it. Bucky is the opposite of that and he’s more likely to shoot someone in the back.

“I was going to say, on the brink of a war and we really shouldn’t meddle with that,” Steve says, trying to bring up the news and the political statues of the country. Bucky just barks out another laugh at that. Sure, it might take a couple of years still but Steve doesn’t doubt that it’s coming and he doesn’t want to be there when it does.

“And man, fuck the city. We’re not the people for that,” Bucky says with a shrug when his laughter dies down. Steve stays quiet, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. He thinks, given enough time, he would be able to get used to living in the city but he knows that Bucky wouldn’t. He escaped from the city, as Bucky himself puts it, and has been living free ever since. He would not want to go back to the captivity that a city offers.

And besides. They’re both too set in their ways.

“We could go to Canada?” Steve suggests offhandedly. “It’s up North, no Mosquitoes that I know of, it’s away from Stark. Plenty of rivers for you to fish in. I get trees and snow and pretty landscapes to draw. It’s not on the brink of war. We’d get to be free?” Steve suggests. Wanting to ride closer and bump their shoulders together like they do when they walk. However, that’s not so easy on horses.

Bucky gets a thoughtful expression as he considers it. Then he gives a light nod, there’s a faint hint of a smile spreading over his features as Bucky grows more and more to enjoy the idea of Canada. When he finally turns to Steve with the smile that’s now large enough to reach his eyes he gives him one affirmative nod. “Sure, up North we go. Canada it is. You wanna sing us a song?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a potential trigger, if this potential trigger does not jive with you, I would recommend stopping to read this chapter as soon as Bucky and Steve crawl into their bed and not read the end of this chapter. 
> 
> After that point, this chapter contains physical abuse to a minor, who also is a sex worker. Steve steps in to prevent this, as well as stops a potential rape from happening. Proceed reading at your own caution, and happy reading!

The first impression that Steve gets off the town Lowpeaks is that it seems to be quite a nice town. It’s small and hidden away in the woods, a stopping point for any travellers. The roads are muddy from the rain the previous day and all the houses are built tightly next to one another which makes it look cozy and like a fire hazard at the same time. 

There’s a couple of lanterns up the main road and it has everything that a small town this size might need. There’s a saloon, a hotel, and a grocer. At the edge is a stable and down further South the way they had came is a lumber mill, no doubt offering jobs to the local villagers. There’s a couple of kids playing outside with a dog chasing them in their play. Two old men sit outside a building smoking their pipes and having a discussion with one another, having little to no care about the two strangers riding in.

By the time they arrive in Lowpeaks, it’s early afternoon but with the clouded sky it gives the impression that it’s late. Everything is dark and Steve’s frozen to the bone from the previous night out camping in the woods. It seems like the further up North they go, the more the towns seem to forget that Spring is supposed to happen. So Steve’s happy with the idea of sleeping in a bed in the hotel tonight. Maybe they can even get a bath. He doesn’t mind washing in the rivers but it’s freezing and the last thing he wants to do in the mornings or evenings. 

“Knowing the Odinsons,” Bucky says in a low tone and keeps riding through town. “They’d probably be another mile up North and into the woods right?” Bucky guesses and looks over to Steve, who just shrugs a little. Steve hopes that they’re still in Lowpeaks but it’s very likely that they’ve already packed up their belongings and moved elsewhere. Still… Steve can’t see Thor passing up a good opportunity for legal money by working in a lumber mill. The man is built like an ox. 

“Should be, his brother would have picked it and you know how he is,” Steve mutters against his will, finding that Loki is a special sort of person, who believes in far too much that is good for him. Everything has to be aligned just right under the stars and by the will of their old gods. 

Finding Thor and Loki proves not to be too difficult. As they ride a mile out of Lowpeaks, it’s the scent of firewood burning that makes them realize they’re close. Then all they have to do is follow their noses through the wind. They haven’t strayed far off the path before they start hearing voices. 

“Behave now,” Steve shoots Bucky a warning look before stepping into the camp and does his best to ignore the deer skulls that have been hung up in the tree. Bucky raises his shoulders all innocently as if he’s never done anything wrong in his life. Truth is, Steve knows he hates Loki, finds the man to be a weasel. But he’s got to behave if they want to talk Loki into buying their stolen goods.

They meet Heimdal, carrying a rifle over his shoulder and keeping guard at the path that leads into the camp. He smirks at Steve and gives him a knowing nod, letting both of them pass without even asking them their business. There is no need, Heimdal knows who they are and he knows what sort of friendship that they have with his leader.

When they appear on the edge of the camp, they learn that Thor apparently is not working in the lumber mill. He’s standing by their fire over a pot, cooking something that smells absolutely delicious. Loki is sitting in his tent, braiding something together with his long black hair cast over his shoulders. Around the camp is a couple more kids, some other men and women from Thor’s group all sitting around and smirking at them as they ride in. No doubt thinking that they’re villagers from Lowpeaks coming to have their fortune told. 

It’s not until a dog barks to announce their presence that Thor looks up from the food that he’s cooking. The blonde, muscular man breaks out in a grin and in an instant forgets what he was doing. He turns to them and spreads open his arms. “Well I never thought I’d see the day! How you are you, Steve?” Thor calls out loudly and steps over to them. Steve grins and dismounts Lily with grace. There’s only a faint reminder in his thigh now from the bullet he took a couple of weeks back. 

“I’m good man, thanks for asking,” Steve takes off his hat before he hugs Thor in greeting. Thor bangs his large hand in the midst of Steve’s back hard enough to make him blink rapidly to avoid his eyes from watering. 

“Barnes,” Thor says with a nod when he lets go of Steve and hugs Bucky as well. The hug is shorter and they let go of one another quickly. But there’s been an exchange of friendly gestures so Steve feels at ease bringing Bucky amongst his friends. Just because Bucky is a bit of a lone wolf who doesn’t like the company of others much doesn’t mean that they’ve got to become hermits. 

“What brings you this way? Please tell me that you’re staying for food at least? Come come, we’ve got enough to go round, it won’t be ready for another hour though. But you must tell me how you’ve been doing!” Thor exclaims and gestures over to the the pot that previously had his full focus. 

Bucky and Steve exchange a glance with one another. Bucky shrugs as if to say  _ your call _ so Steve makes the decision. It would be nice to sit with friends for a little while. They can call their leave a little bit later on and head back to town to get a room in the hotel. The plan was to leave tomorrow after all, after having sold their items and bought some more supplies. 

“Sure, we’d love to,” Steve tells Thor and watches how the man just lights up at the suggestion. Bucky smirks a little to Thor at the obvious joy that he’s expressing. “We got some business with your brother first however, if you don’t mind?” Steve asks and points over his shoulder to Loki who he guesses is still ignoring them all. 

“Loki? You’re free men, you go about your business with him. I will scrounge us up something to drink. We must celebrate!” Thor claps his hands together and heads off to the camp supplies in his hunt to find something to drink for them all. Bucky opens his mouth as if to tell Thor that it’s still the middle of the day and perhaps a bit early to drink. But he rolls his eyes and shakes his head with an amused expression. 

“You get the stuff?” Steve asks him as he takes a step towards Loki. Bucky’s eyes trail over towards Loki but he nods and takes a step back to the horses to get their bag with the loot they’re trying to sell and hopes that Loki will accept what they’re offering. 

Loki in all his nonchalance doesn’t even squint at the sun when Steve comes up to him. He looks like a mixture of bored and scheming which must be his permanent expression, Steve thinks. The other has always looked like that when he’s met him and frankly. Steve doesn’t like it at all. It gives off the constant sensation that he’s going to rip them off. It’s incredible, Steve thinks, how two brothers could become that different from one another. 

“Loki,” he greets the ferret looking man with charms in his hair, dressed nearly all in black and more charms around his neck and wrists, containing small animal bones and teeth, Steve spots. It gives him the shivers but he tries not to let it notice. It’s no wonder that people call Loki a witch and it’s no wonder that Loki revels in being called one. He makes his living off it, buying stolen goods and using it in his craft, then selling it on to bored women wanting to have their fortunes told, does some scenes as to lay  _ curses _ on other people. It’s all an act, Thor told him once. Absolutely nothing real and no magic in it whatsoever, it’s just that Loki sometimes believes it. And it’s just that it  _ feels _ real.

“Rogers,” Loki greets him and goes back to his little craft, which Steve now sees isn’t a braid. It’s a little doll. Something tells him that the doll isn’t intended for children to play with but that it has a far more sinister purpose. It makes him think of the voodoo dolls that went in circulation down south.  

“We want to fence some stuff.” Steve nods over to Bucky who comes to his side and drops the bag at Loki’s feet. Instantly Steve feels better. Bucky has less tolerance for the weirdness that Loki is up to. And if it irks him out, he’s a lot better at not showing it. Instead, unlike Steve, Bucky just rolls in and over with little care for any bullshit. That can sometimes help in situations like this.

Loki lets out a dramatic sigh and puts the doll aside. He pulls the bag over to him and opens it, rummaging around it with spindly hands until he starts picking out what he likes. Loki takes out the gold ingot, which Steve had been hoping Loki would pick. He also takes out some silver necklaces with the emerald and ruby stones in them. One engraved lighter, a silver flask. Loki also lifts out the watches, snaps off the chains to them, and drops the watches back. He keeps the chains. Then he holds out the bag for Bucky again to take. 

“I can do nothing with watches,” He explains with that nonchalant shrug of his. Bucky takes the bag again and seems to weigh it. As far as Steve can remember, there are only four or five watches in there, maybe a grand total of twenty dollars if they’re lucky. They’re worth less now when Loki’s pulled off the chains. 

“How much can you give us for the rest?” Steve asks and nods down to the loot that Loki’s taken out. Loki looks it over. Counting the chains and muttering under his breath in his native tongue that neither Bucky nor Steve understands. Then Loki reaches for a tin box, opens it, and pulls out a wad of cash. He stands up and begins to count. 

“Three hundred for the gold,” he says, taking out several bills from the wad. “Fifty for the necklaces, ten for the lighter, seven for the flask. Ten for the chains.” Loki takes out notes for each number that he mentions, then extends his hand with the money and gives them a sickly, honeyed sweet smile to them that makes Steve uncomfortable. “I threw in three to make it a nice even number. For being friends.” 

Steve and Bucky exchange a glance. It’s not as much money as Steve had hoped for. Three hundred and eighty dollars is more than they’d earn in any grocer if they even found one willing to buy. Bucky makes the decision for them and takes the money out of Loki’s hand. 

“Thanks,” Steve tells Loki. Loki just salutes them and sits back down to continue his crafting on the little doll. Bucky counts the money one last time and turns with Steve to find Thor. He’s easy to find, his voice is loud and booms over the camp with his never ending optimism. No matter what life throws in his direction, Thor always seems to be happy and come out on top. After everything the huge Norse man has been through, Steve only admires him for that. 

“A drink,” Thor persists when they reach up to him and opens the bottle of rum that he’s found. He’s dug some mugs out from somewhere and Steve’s learned a long time ago that ignorance is bliss. Thor fills them up with a generous amount and passes them one each. “To old friends, huh?” Thor raises his mug, Steve and Bucky copy him and take a drink. The rum burns down Steve’s throat, but it tastes incredibly sweet. “And, to long time no see,” 

 

\--

 

It’s nice. Spending an evening with Thor and his gang. There’s a lighter atmosphere that hangs over the camp that feels much nicer than any atmosphere over Stark’s old gang. Maybe it is because they still stand for what they believe in, which they too had done once upon a time. And Thor doesn’t condone crime unless he absolutely has to in order to keep their gang afloat. That had been the core of Stark’s once upon a time but it had gotten tainted over the years. 

Still. It’s nice. Thor welcomes them with open arms and he feeds them. The stew that he had been making, he explains, has deer meat. The woods are crawling with them, he explains and gestures out to the trees around them. Plenty of food for all, if you only take what you need and no more. Together they empty the bottle of the rum and come the early evening, everybody is laughing and smiling. 

Somebody pulls out a guitar and starts playing, singing wonderfully. They play games, poker, domino, Bucky even spends some time throwing horseshoes with the little kids. Cheeks a little flushed from the alcohol but he’s smiling and in a good mood. Steve watches them from a distance as he talks to Thor and can’t help but smile every time Bucky laughs and he wants to pull him in and kiss that smile. 

Thor wouldn’t have judged, Thor never judges. Thor is a simple man like that. And he wouldn’t have bat an eye at Steve if he got up and danced with Bucky. But Thor is going East as well, he says, he wants to go to the sun for the sake of the children. Had it not been for the risk that Thor’s path may cross Tony’s in the future, then Steve would have suggested that they just stay with Thor and the other Norsemen and women. Bucky would have liked it, Steve firmly believes. 

So when the late evening comes, the sky dark and covered with millions of stars, they make their leave. Thor follows them both to their horses, which have been fed, watered and brushed by one of Thor’s men and enjoyed the break. With one arm around Steve’s shoulders and the other around Bucky, Thor walks with them. 

“It was wonderful having you both come by, do come out and visit us if we are ever in the same area, you hear? We must repeat this,” Thor declares, patting Bucky on his back and sliding his arm off Bucky’s shoulders. 

“Oh we will,” Bucky winks to Thor. There’s a light pink flush over his cheeks from the rum but Bucky takes the last couple of steps to Bo without faltering or tripping. “It was nice, thank you for the food and company,” 

“It really was,” Steve agrees and turns to offer Thor another hug. Thor smacks his large hand on the middle of Steve’s back again then pulls back a little bit, still holding Steve’s shoulders. He’s smiling widely still and doesn’t seem like the rum has gotten him drunk at all. Steve’s own perceptions are a little warped and his head feels oddly heavy while he feels really warm. But he’s happy. 

“Good good,” Thor says, seemingly pleased with the information that he was a good host. Bucky mounts Bo and Thor reaches out to pat the mustang on his neck. Bo doesn’t seem to mind this bit of affection and Steve feels a little jealous. Sure, Thor has a natural hand with animals but Bo doesn’t know him. Steve snorts the betrayal and waves his hand at the horse before reaching for Lily’s own reigns. Bucky is the only one who notices and laughs a little. 

“I wish you both the best of luck in your new path. I hope you find some place to settle in Canada. Have you decided where to go yet?” Thor asks and steps closer to Bo to keep patting him on his neck while Steve mounts Lily. 

“No, not yet, we haven’t made that much in regards to plans yet, we probably will figure it out the closer we get and where we cross,” Bucky admits and leans in a little, resting his forearms on the pommel. Thor nods a couple of times and brushes his fingers through Bo’s mane.

“Alberta is very very beautiful, we were there two years ago and honestly, I would have stayed if we could. Unfortunately I was outvoted,” Thor shrugs a little. “And I have to agree with my people a little. We did leave Norway to get away from terrible winters, we didn’t come here just to move back to winters. We’re headed towards California now,” 

“Well, I genuinely hope that you find someplace wonderful to settle with your people in California.” Steve places his hand on his chest and gives Thor a nod. Thor just waves him off with more laughter. He steps away from Bo and gives both of the horses space to turn and walk off when Steve and Bucky set them into movement. 

“Oh we will,” Thor says with a nod. “I don’t think we’ll have much trouble. These are good people, hard working wherever we go, we have no bad name that follows us. And Loki, well, he might leave us, he might not, he always does his own thing.” Thor smirks at them both, hands on his hips. “I wish you well, and I will be certain to try and find you both when I am in Canada next time,” 

“Oh and if you would-” Steve begins but Thor cuts him off before Steve’s even given a chance to finish. 

“I will not tell Stark that my paths crossed yours should I meet him. He is not to know you two are breathing air,” Thor says with another wink and takes one more step back. “Do not worry, your secret's safe with us. I do hope you both get the start of a new life that you wish. You both deserve it and you both deserve to be together. May the allfather look over you,” Thor gives them one knowing nod and then backs away into the camp again. 

Bucky gives Steve a surprised look and Steve just shrugs a little in response and smiles softly. He’s not surprised at all. Thor is observant and a whole lot smarter than people give him credit for. And Thor doesn’t judge. Not even something as uncomplicated as who loves who. 

“Thank you!” Bucky calls after Thor again, then turns Bo to head through the small path in the woods and back to the road that will lead them to Lowpeaks. “Did you know that he knew?” Bucky asks and glances over his shoulder to Steve then, when he looks back ahead of himself, he dodges just in time for a branch. Steve chuckles a little and pushes it out of his way when he reaches it. 

“No, but I’m not surprised that he does,” Steve confesses to Bucky. The woods are silent and the only sound that he hears is the sound of the hooves of the horses breaking and twisting little branches and the sound of their breathing. “Thor knows a lot more than he lets on, he’s a good soul,” 

“Mm, he is,” Bucky agrees dreamily. “Do you think they got a room with two singles in the hotel? Or that we’d be forced to get two rooms?” Bucky asks him and looks over his shoulder again as they reach the road and turns down to his left, back to Lowpeaks. Steve raises an eyebrow and smirks to Bucky. 

“You getting ideas Barnes?” Steve asks, not that he objects. It would be so much easier to warm one another’s beds if they shared a room. And it would help if they didn’t have to sneak into one another's room and then back out again, just because the other bed still had to seem slept in. 

“I always get ideas when I drink, you should know this,” Bucky says with an easy going shrug. Steve breaks out laughing at that and nods. 

“Oh I know, you can get downright naughty sometimes.” Steve rides out onto the road, then speeds up Lily a little to ride up to Bucky and beside him. “I don’t know, you think you can stay quiet? Hotels have thin walls,” Steve teases him, knowing full well that the last time, Bucky had bitten down on his hand hard enough to bruise it and nearly draw blood just to stay quiet. It was half of the fun really, Steve thought, to make Bucky moan like that and nearly get them caught. Not that he knew what he’d actually do if they  _ did _ get caught. Then they’d have to make it out of there in lightning speed. 

“I can behave when I want to. That includes staying silent,” Bucky smirks back to Steve who lets out another bark of laughter at that. He believes Bucky but he finds the exchange funny enough to laugh at. And besides, the rum has loosened up his limbs and made him relaxed enough to not care. 

“Maybe we should just camp out here instead, ride deep into the woods where no one will hear you scream and if they do, they think it’ll be some animal and not give a fuck,” Steve suggests, a new coy smirk coming over him, Bucky snorts. 

“You plan on fucking me like an animal, Rogers? I mean, I’m not opposed but I’d really like to sleep on a bed tonight,” Bucky muses, Steve groans. Not in protest but at the thought of a bed and sleeping on a mattress tonight rather than dirt with roots digging into his back. Over the years, he’s come to get used to sleeping on nearly everything but that doesn’t mean he enjoys it. 

“We’re building our own bed when we get the chance to build our home, right? Sleep in a proper bed?” Steve asks him hopeful, he can’t see why not. He knows they’ll have to build two beds for sights, just in case they ever invite someone in. But the idea of spending the rest of his life sleeping in a bed at night with his arm around Bucky is wonderful.

“Stevie.” Bucky blindly reaches over to him and finds Steve’s shoulder, giving him one hard squeeze and smiles to him.”I’ll build you a bed and get you the softest damn mattress and you’ll never have to wake up with an ache in your back ever again. I promise you.”

Steve smiles at that, reaches to take Bucky’s hand and squeezes it in return. He looks to Bucky who winks at him again and then lets his hand drop as they hear Lowpeaks coming closer. The streets are lit up more properly now in the night, there’s singing and piano music heard from the tavern which seem to be filled to the brim save from a couple of men talking loudly to one another with cigarettes in hand. 

Bucky leads them to the hotel and ignores the drunken man trying to greet him. “You stay here and I’ll get us a room,” Bucky dismounts Bo near the hotel and with a light bounce in his step, he walks up the stairs to the building. The overweight man sitting by the door ignores Bucky, just as Bucky ignores him and enters. Steve dismounts as well and takes the reigns of both horses in his hand, leaning against the post rather than tying them up. There’s no point in tying the horses up if they got to leave again. 

Both of the animals blink sleepily in the dark and Steve adjusts his hat as he looks around in Lowpeaks. It’s a cozy little town, he thinks, but he wouldn’t want to stay in it. The amount of ruckus that comes from the saloon is already annoying him and he bets that the law have their hands full every evening when people slowly make their way home. The entertainers, Steve doesn’t like to think of them as whores, all seem to have an easy time getting company for the evening. They laugh brightly at the men by their sides and exchange looks to one another that their customers for the night truly are idiots. 

He gives a nod to a young girl with stark black hair, scantily clad for the temperature outside and barely older than fourteen. She walks with a man by her side as she more or less drags him up the stairs to the hotel. She winks at him. She’s got a ridiculous amount of paint on her face but she looks pretty and healthy so she can’t have been in the business for very long. Steve looks over his shoulder after them and sees how the man has a firm grip on her behind which makes her giggle. 

“Evenin’ Mary-Anne,” the overweight man sitting on the bench outside says with a nod to her as well and she just waves a couple of fingers at him before sliding into the hotel with her customer. 

Steve waits an additional two minutes out in the cold with the horses until the door to the hotel opens again and Bucky comes out, holding a key in his hand. With the same bounce that he climbed the stairs, he now comes down it again. “They had a room, two beds,” Bucky tells him with an expression so neutral that Steve doesn’t know how he manages to keep up his front. “Got no more room in the stables however, some lady with a coach arrived and her six horses are in there. But he said we can leave them out front and apparently that guy…” He points over to the overweight man behind him, now lighting a pipe. “Hey, you Henry?!” Bucky calls out to him, the man nods his response, blowing smoke around him. “He doubles as a guard and he’ll keep an eye on them. The lady supposedly leaves early in the morning and then he’ll take them in and feed em properly,” 

Bucky removes his packing from the saddle, takes his rifle and shotgun and slings them over his shoulder. Next he takes his bow. Steve does the same and removes his own packing. He’s got less weapons. He only has a rifle but Bucky is the better shot anyway so it’s only natural he’s got more guns. Instead, Steve carries most of their camping equipment. He kisses Lily goodnight on one of her black freckles in between her eyes and follows Bucky indoors. 

The hotel is warm, dimly lit and the air is stuffy to breathe. Bucky leads Steve upstairs and then down the hall. The first room they pass is quiet. From the second one, they hear snoring. Bucky stops at the third and from the fourth there’s the unmistakable sound of moaning. Steve snorts. “Sounds like Mary-Anne is already working hard,” he comments to himself as Bucky slides the key into the lock and twists.

“Huh?” Bucky asks and looks at Steve with surprisingly innocent eyes as he pushes the door open. Steve shakes his head to indicate that it doesn’t matter so Bucky shrugs and steps into the room. It’s an average sized room with two wooden beds on either side and two nightstands by them. There’s lit candles on both of them and the curtains are still open, allowing quite a bit of light from the side street lanterns to stride in. 

Unanimously, they both decide on which bed will serve for their packing and Bucky closes the curtains once he’s dropped all of his things on it. Steve does the same and drops his hat on top of it, brushing his hand through his hair and decides that in the morning, he’s going to take a bath now that they have access to hot water rather than river water. 

Coming up behind him, Bucky sneaks his arms around Steve’s waist and squeezes him close. Steve places his hand on Bucky’s and feels how goosebumps break out on his arm when Bucky presses a light kiss in Steve’s neck. He always manages to do that and Steve hates it as much as he loves it. “What are you thinking about?” Bucky whispers to him, nudging his nose just over the shell of Steve’s ear before taking his earlobe in between his teeth. 

“Was thinking about a bath tomorrow, now not so much anymore,” Steve confesses to him and when Bucky lets go of Steve’s ear again, he turns to face him, putting his arms around Bucky’s neck, and feels how the other’s hands come to rest on his hips. “Now I’m more thinking of how much I’d like a kiss from you.” 

Bucky gives him that sweet little smile that Steve knows is reserved for him and him alone and Bucky leans in to kiss him. It’s wonderful and Bucky still tastes slightly sugary after the rum they’ve been drinking all day. The buzz has mostly passed but Steve still feels warm and cozy from it and now wants nothing more than to just be close to Bucky and to feel all of him. 

“Like that?” Bucky whispers in a soft tone and kisses him again, stroking his hand up Steve’s back over to his chest and pec, then his neck and keeps him in place as he kisses him deeply. Steve moans softly and parts his lips a little, something that Bucky takes instant advantage of and slips his tongue into Steve’s mouth. 

“Like that,” Steve whispers in return and starts to move them both towards the other bed. When the back of Bucky’s legs hit the bed, he sits down and Steve kneels down on the floor in between them. He strokes his hand up Bucky’s thigh and surges to kiss him again, needier now, and moves his hand to Bucky’s crotch, feeling how the other man is already hard in his trousers. “Let me do something about that, hmm?” he hums and starts to unbuckle Bucky’s belt. 

Bucky just smiles at Steve and lets him do whatever he wants. And while he lets out soft little moans, he keeps his promise and he stays quiet enough so that they’re not heard. Not even when Steve moves up onto the bed to be with him properly. 

 

\--

 

Steve rouses from his light sleep at some point halfway through the night because of the argument that’s going on in the room next to theirs. Beside him, Bucky is still deeply asleep, an arm draped around Steve’s naked stomach and nestled against Steve’s shoulder. There’s some of his strands of brown hair in front of his shut eyes and he breathes slowly. Steve watches him for a short moment, smiling at the beautiful sight beside him and stroking the hair. 

Bucky mutters in his sleep and stirs a little when Steve strokes the strands of hair out of his face and tucks them behind his ear and decides to leave him be. Not wanting to wake him up. Bucky wanted to sleep in a bed and the last thing that Steve wants is to wake him up halfway through the night during the only night they have the room. Steve settles his head back against the feather-stuffed pillow and strokes his fingers over Bucky’s shoulder and neck instead as he shuts his eyes and tries to fall back asleep. 

But no matter how hard he tries to ignore the hushed argument going on in the next room, he can’t. He finds himself listening in to it, even if he can’t make out what it’s all about. He’s not particularly interested in it at first, not until he hears the heavy  _ thud  _ slam against the wall hard enough to make their painting of a bull rattle. Steve flinches a little at the sudden sound.

“Wha’s that?” Bucky mutters sleepily and squeezes Steve a little tighter around his waist before relaxing again with a yawn. 

“They’re fighting next door,” Steve tells him, now stroking Bucky’s hair blindly as he watches the painting of the bull. Staring out over the room and looking at them both with dull, dark eyes. Too stupid to realize what happened in front of him and too dumb to realize what it meant. Steve tries to listen harder at the argument. 

“Oh,” Bucky mutters disinterested and pulls his shoulders up while he makes a sound. “Leave em be, they’ll stop soon enough,” Bucky mutters against Steve’s skin and presses a kiss to Steve’s chest before trying to go back to sleep again. Steve doesn’t respond. He waits patiently and tense in the bed to hear more of it. He thinks he can hear curses and sobbing through the wall but isn’t entirely sure. 

When there’s another  _ thud _ , Steve slips out from underneath Bucky’s grip and out of the bed. Bucky whines and rolls onto his stomach, shoves his head in the pillow and groans. “Are you really? Really, Stevie? Come back to bed,” he begs and extends his arm for Steve. Steve’s already in the process of pulling on his long johns and his jeans.

“Buck, there’s a young girl in there,” Steve hisses to Bucky. He doesn’t think that the other knows, he was probably too focused on getting their room to notice the couple behind him at the counter. And even so, Bucky was never one to notice women a lot. It wasn’t out of malice, his interest had always laid with the men at their arms, he’s confessed. “And the guy she’s with? He’s about our size, he could be hurting her.” 

Bucky glares at him, considering the information that Steve just offered up to him. Then Bucky sits up and lets out a short but deep and frustrated sigh and waves Steve off. But that very same hand turns into a lecturing hand. “Alright fine, but don’t do anything stupid, alright? We’re laying low, remember that, Stevie, and repeat after me, low,” he warns one final time. Steve raises his hand to indicate that he understood and pulls open their door. 

He steps out to the hallway and closes the door behind him just as Bucky lays down with the same sort of groan again. Steve takes the quick five strides required to bring him to the fourth and last room of the hotel and stands in front of the door. Fist raised against it and he pauses, trying hard to make out what’s going on inside the room now that he’s standing in front of a thinner piece of woodwork. Now Steve unmistakably hears the sobbing of the young girl and the man cursing her out, telling her in a tone as hushed as he possibly can to be quiet. 

Steve rams his fist against the door quickly. Inside, he hears the cursing and the name calling go quiet but the sobbing continues. He waits but hears no movement indoors. So he knocks again. “Open up,” he says in the most authoritative voice that he can manage. Nothing happens. Now with his patience wearing thin, blood rushing through his ear, Steve puts his hand on the door handle and pushes it down and opens the door, glad to find it unlocked. 

The young girl from earlier in the evening, Mary-Anne, is huddled away in a corner almost entirely naked. She’s sobbing and her hair is a mess. On her arms, Steve can see bruises, one of her eyes is swelling shut and her lip is split. The man she entered with has the gal to look at  _ Steve _ like  _ he’s _ the asshole in the room. “What the fuck did you do to her?” Steve demands and steps inside, quickly taking a step back when the man raises his hand and shows he’s brandishing a knife. 

“None of your fucking concern. I paid for her, alright?” the man spits back at him. He tries to keep his voice down which is good, Steve thinks. That means that the man wants the law on him just as much as Steve does. There’s no movement down in the hotel which tells Steve that the manager must have fallen asleep and of course Henry is outside. The other two rooms are quiet, either sleeping or trying to make the world forget of their existence so they don’t have to get involved. 

“And I’m certain she agreed to be threatened with a knife,” Steve retorts to him, it comes out dripping with sarcasm. The man either doesn’t notice or is too drunk to care. Mary-Anne curls up a bit more in her corner and starts to sob a bit louder. There’s blood on the floor that Steve isn’t certain of where it comes from. He hopes it’s from her lip, all things considered. 

“You get the fuck out of here, you get the fuck out of here and you go mind your own business, alright?” The man turns the knife and his focus back to Steve as if he expects him to just take a step back and close the door. Steve can’t bring himself to do that. He wouldn’t be able to just sit there and listen to how Mary-Anne gets beaten. Gets perhaps even murdered right next to them while he’s got everything in his power to break it up. 

_ Lay low _ , Bucky’s voice whispers in the back of his head,  _ don’t do anything stupid _ . But this isn’t stupid, this is the right thing and Steve can’t see any other way out of it now. His consciousness wouldn’t be able to take it and whatever he does to Mary-Anne would still bring the law to the hotel and then they’d have to leave. If he interferes, deescalate the situation and calms it, then perhaps everybody walks out with the best possible outcome. 

“Can’t do that.” Steve shakes his head and places his hands on each side of the doorway. “Put the knife down,” he tries again to reason with the man. He can’t threaten to go fetch someone either, that would leave Mary-Anne with him alone until he’s gotten someone and then even more questions to be asked later. “Put. The knife. Down.” Steve repeats again and this time, sounds more forceful as he does. 

“Listen fella-” The man takes a step closer and Steve takes action. He should have brought something, he realises now. He should have taken one of Bucky’s knives or at the very least his own revolver so he’s got something to threaten with. Instead he’s empty handed and he can only use his hands as fists. The one up that he actually has is that the man is drunk and by now Steve feels sober enough from the drink. 

Steve’s reach is long as he swings his fist at the man, quick and hard. He feels the slam under his knuckles as his fist collides with the man’s cheekbone, sending him stumbling back with a dumbfounded look on his face. He doesn’t drop the knife however which is what Steve was hoping for. 

Steve punches the man again, taking the momentarily confusion into action. He doesn’t expect the man however to grab Mary-Anne by her hair and pull her over. She lets out a sharp shriek that’s mixed with a scream as her hands fly into her hair and she’s dragged over to the man. In his and Bucky’s room, he can hear a scramble now. He imagines Bucky fly out of their bed. 

The man presses the blade against Mary-Anne’s throat and she starts to whimper, begging for the man who doesn’t hear her not to do it. Realizing that all the money in the world at this moment isn’t worth this amount of trouble, Steve sees red at that. She does not have to be threatened like this. 

Steve grabs the stool near the dresser with the wash basin on top and smashes it against the man’s head. The stool breaks in pieces and in surprise, the man lets Mary-Anne go. She scrambles away. He’s still stunned from the slam against his head and Steve takes another moment of action. He takes three steps to close the distance between them, pries the knife out of his hand with ease, and jams it in the middle of the man’s chest, just underneath the bones. The knife sinks in easily and the man gasps with air.

He doesn’t scream, he doesn’t struggle. He just looks at Steve with large eyes, hinting at nothing but surprise and confusion. There’s not even a hint of fear in them as his legs buckle underneath him. Steve pulls out the knife and drives it back in. Again. And again. And again. And again until they’re both on the floor and the man’s chest is nothing but a cut open bloody mess and Steve’s hand is in the same colour. 

“Stop, stop, stop!” Bucky’s voice is behind him and with two strong hands on Steve’s shoulders, he pulls Steve off the man. Steve goes with him remarkably easy and drops back against Bucky’s chest, breathing heavily. Steve grips ahold of Bucky’s arm, not noticing or even realising that he’s staining Bucky’s shirt with blood. 

“He was gonna-” Steve swallows, feels how his throat goes thick and points over to Mary-Anne. “He was gonna-” 

“Shh, it’s alright, I know,” Bucky pats Steve’s cheek which makes him fall quiet. He casts a quick, calculating look over the room and then back to the man. “Fuck,” Bucky curses and gets back on his feet, pulling Steve along with him. 

From her corner, through watery eyes, Mary-Anne looks at the corpse of the man, she takes a sharp intake of breath which makes Bucky raise his shoulders in anticipation. And then she starts to scream. Loud and shrill echoing through the hotel and alerting all the other guests. Now leaving no more option for people to stand by in the sidelines in their own room and pretend they’re not hearing anything. 

“Steve, we have to go, now!” Bucky shouts at him, and in the midst of panic doesn’t even think of using their fake names. Steve stands rooted to the spot, watching the man he just stabbed twice, thrice? Five times? Ten? Bleed out on the floor. Maybe he’s already dead, he stares with empty eyes up to the ceiling. “ **_Now!_ ** ” Bucky shouts again and pulls at Steve’s arm which sets him into motion. 

Together they dash back into their room. Steve grabs their remaining clothes from the floor and jams them in one of their packs. Bucky’s already hauling his guns over his shoulder but keeps his rifle in hand. “That bitch better not have left yet,” Bucky mutters under his breath and then runs out into the hallway. Steve steps into his boots and does the same. 

They race down the stairs like Bisons, thundering and loud and showing no more courtesy for the other guests. Upstairs Mary-Anne is still screaming. The whole scene of it makes them look incredibly guilty and they are, to a certain extent of course. 

“What’s going on here?” The hotel manager comes out of his room behind the counter, hair tousled and his glasses slightly crooked, the top button of his shirt is undone. Bucky reacts instantly and pulls his revolver, aiming it at the man. He looks down the barrel and then in an act of confusion or perhaps not really knowing what else to do, he raises his hand. 

“You will forget that we were ever here,” Bucky warns in a deep, murderous growl. Threatening the man in such a manner that Steve never would be able to. He pulls back the hammer of his gun, the clicking noise of it enough to tell the manager that he is being serious. Steve opens the door for them and steps outside, holding it open for Bucky who backs out of it, the gun still aimed at the man. 

The street is deserted, with hardly a soul alive wandering around in it. The street lamps are starting to dim a bit and the air is cold and crisp. The overweight man on the bench isn’t sitting there anymore but Bo and Lily are still standing faithfully tied to the post. As soon as Bucky steps outside, he lowers the gun and turns. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Bucky hisses, goes to Bo, and carelessly throws his packing over the horses back. Bo nickers his disapproval but keeps standing still. Steve does the same with Lily and unties both of the horses before he mounts her. With bloodied hands, he grabs the reigns and backs her out onto the street. 

“ **_Henry! Get them!_ ** ” the manager shouts from inside the hotel just as they both kick the flanks of their horses and set them moving. Instantly in a gallop. Steve leads them out of Lowpeaks just as bystanders come out to hear what the ruckuss is all about. He rides them up the path and runs them both into the woods before they reach the turnoff to Thor’s camp, heading the opposite direction. 

It’s hard riding in the dark and small branches hit and whip him the in the face, leaving angry red marks and scratches over his arms and face. Bucky follows not so quietly, a cursing at having to run, cursing at the branches and cursing at life. 

“Steve, hold up!” Bucky eventually shouts and pulls Bo to a stop. Steve does the same with Lily and turns to see what Bucky is about to do. “The fucker is following us,” Bucky hisses and takes his rifle again. In the distance, Steve can hear the sound of hooves. Just one horse, one man, and he imagines that it’s Henry from the hotel. The man didn’t give the impression of someone who would do the bare minimum of work. 

“Bucky c’mon,” Steve urges him, much rather wanting to keep riding. “We can lose him, there’ll be others out here soon enough. Bucky, come on!” Steve tries but Bucky doesn’t budge. He raises his rifle and takes aim into the trees. At what, Steve can’t tell and he doesn’t particularly care to look either. His heart is hammering away in his chest and he wants to get as far away from Lowpeaks as he possibly can. 

Then Bucky fires, one loud shot echoing through the dark night. Bo, as good as he is, just tramples nervously on the spot. In the distance, a horse screams followed by a thud as a body falls to the ground. Steve can still hear the hooves, now running faster as the horse shoots into a fit of panic. 

“Got him,” Bucky says so matter of factly and puts his rifle away again. “Gives us a head start. Come on, let’s get out of here.” Bucky turns Bo again and sets him back into a gallop. Steve remains standing in the spot for a moment longer, then he turns and follows suit. 

“Fucking hell,” he mutters under his breath and in that particular moment, Steve wishes he had just stayed in bed with Bucky. 

At least Mary-Anne is safe now. At least there’s that. 


	3. Chapter 3

“Nice doing business with ya,” Bucky calls to the butcher and only half arsed waves him off. The man had, in god's honest truth, been a prick. But he had been willing to pay for the few pelts that Bucky had brought along and the two lake trouts he had fished up. It hadn’t been much, three rabbit pelts and fox pelt in pretty decent shape. But nothing they had use of so they might as well sell it for some extra money. They’d need it in the future. 

The butcher, as expected, doesn’t give Bucky a response and instantly sets back to work. Bucky leads Bo away from the stand. The horse is nervous from the scent of blood. Nerves of steel except when there’s blood involved. Calmly, he leads him away and through the town. Bucky’s not entirely sure of the name and truth to be told, he doesn’t really care. They’re bound to leave again soon enough once they’ve rested. 

Some whores whistle for his attention but he just nods towards them. He’s still perfectly sated from that morning. And what they have to offer for him, quite openly on display for all potential guests to see, doesn’t really interest him. Nobody gives him a look as he walks through the small town and takes the road leading North to head back to his camp. 

Bucky feels like taking a little walk, at least until he’s got to head off the road and into a path. He takes a look around in the town as he does, wondering if one day he and Steve will ever manage to settle near a town like this and not have to move. If they one day will be the inhabitants and if he and Steve one day will be the one bringing their goats for auction. The thought gives him a warm feeling in his stomach. 

Bucky never really felt that sense of belonging. He had been lost on the day that he was born already. He doesn’t remember much of his mother who died in childbirth to his youngest sister, taking the little girl along with her to the grave. After that, he vaguely remembers his father turning to drink. He didn’t understand it then but he does now. Not long after the death of his mother, it can’t have been much longer, his father had put his shotgun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. 

He lived with his sister out in the remote desert for three days before someone rode by and brought them to town. Then they were separated, both placed in homes. Rebecca in one for girls and Bucky in one for boys. He ran away when he was nine years old and lived on the soles of his own two feet after that. Mostly as a drifter, in and out of gangs. Stark’s gang had been the one where he had stayed the longest. Mostly because of Steve. Had he not been there then he most likely would have moved on once the winter was over. 

Steve on the other hand had been in the gang for nearly all his life or at least the years that mattered, if you asked him. They both had been lost boys, Steve had found a sense of home and community in the gang, just like Bucky had found that in himself. He had always thought he didn’t  _ need _ anyone else until he met Steve. Now he couldn’t imagine life without the other. 

On his way out of the town, the last building that Bucky passes to his right is the Sheriff’s office which he does his best to just walk past without looking like someone interesting. He’s just a man passing through, selling some pelts from his travels for some extra money. Still, Bucky has an ingrained habit in his spine and that is to always check the bounty posters. Ever since he carelessly rode into a town when he was fifteen and didn’t bother checking and got arrested for making such an idiotic appearance, he always looks. Now he makes sure he alters his appearance a little bit for every visit that he makes, just in case. Back then, they mostly wanted him for fines and at most it was a two year stretch in prison. Now, considering his history and the severity of his crimes having changed over the years, as well with having been so elusive, it’s not a big surprise when he sees  **dead or alive** printed in large bold letters under his name, vague description, crime, and last known location. 

Occasionally, he sees faces of men and women he knows on the walls. But it still startles him a little when the face that stares back at him on one of the five wanted posters is Steve’s. And right next to Steve’s is his own. Not quite an accurate drawing of him but it’s close enough to get the gist. Printed underneath their names is written  **wanted for murder** . 

Bucky hisses under his breath and checks over his shoulder to see that nobody is watching him. The key to blending in is acting like everyone else. Which is easier said than done. So he stops Bo and rather carelessly steps over to the wanted posters and pretends to read the others. He does but he doesn’t recognize any of the other three. Just Steve and himself staring back at him. Bucky almost feels a little angry and part of him wants to say that it wasn’t  _ quite _ the way that went. 

Sure, he shot someone in the head (and did a wonderful shot, if he may say so himself) and sure, Steve stabbed a man at least seven times. But it wasn’t like anyone would believe Steve, with his bloodied hands and the knife in his hand, that the man had really thought of hurting the girl that he had dragged up to his room. They never believed the women. So Steve had just done what he considered to be right. And Bucky had just done what was necessary to lose their tail and to bring them both back to safety. 

He didn’t like the idea that there were posters hanging out about them, promising $750 for each of them, dead or alive. And he didn’t like that the other three posters barely even totalled to $750 dollars together. 

After taking one final look around himself, Bucky begins to pry the posters off the wall. He nearly rips his own poster but gets off, folds it, and tucks it away in his jacket. He can only pray that it hasn’t hung up for too long and that too many interested people have seen it. But mostly if people took up on Bounty hunts, they tore down the posters along with them to have something to compare with. Something that was as handy as it was idiotic. A man could stride in and remove their own poster like he just did. 

But then again, he would have to ride around in all towns nearby to get them all taken down. And survive that. 

Steve’s poster comes down easier and when Bucky has that one folded in his jacket, he mounts Bo and takes off in a trott. As soon as he is out of sight of the town, he spurs Bo into a gallop and races back to the camp, cold sweat running down his back and the urge to flee in his muscles. 

 

\--

 

“We need to get out of here,” Bucky states and tosses two pieces of folded paper over to Steve’s lap. Steve looks at them rather dumbfounded before he picks them up and folds them open. He winces when he sees that the posters are of them, totalling a reward of $1500 for them both together. Which makes them appealing targets to a couple of bounty hunters. Especially with the one line written  _ last seen in the company of _ and one another’s names. Two birds, one stone, big nugget of gold. 

“On the bright side,” Steve begins and lowers the posters to look at Bucky who’s, not surprisingly, already pacing back and forth in front of their little put out campfire with his arms crossed over his chest. He gives Steve a look as if Steve’s crazy, as if there even is a good side to this. “The posters say Steven Rogers and James Barnes,” Steve explains and holds up Bucky’s. “We’ve been calling ourselves Charles Holmes and Sean Shorte ever since Lowpeaks and the posters were still up,” 

“There could have been more posters up,” Bucky says and waves his hand in Steve’s general direction, then brings his thumb up to his lips and bites down on his nail. Steve gives him a soft smile. He understands that Bucky is worried, he really does. But he doesn’t think that it’s cause to panic yet. 

“They might also have been the only two up, Buck. We’re in Wyoming now, we’re not in Iowa anymore. We’ve ridden a long way. This might have been all they have and they most likely don’t expect us to be here! These are the sort of posters hunters glance over and then actually shit their pants over when they stumble across those people because they expect them to be somewhere completely different.”

Bucky takes a deep breath and stands still. He looks down at the grass and then nods a couple of times. “Yeah, yeah you’re right,” Bucky eventually says and brushes his hand through his hair. “I’m just… I’m overreacting, that’s all. I wanted to be done with that, I don’t want anything to fuck up our chances. That’s all.” 

“I know.” Steve smiles softly at him and then looks back down at the poster. “I know Buck, I do too. But I don’t think we should just pack up and leave. That might be suspicious, you know? I think honestly, we’re best off acting like we were and leave when we were planning. Ride a day or two and then we should… change our looks again.” Steve sighs a little and folds the posters shut again. He has to admit though, he’s a little bit tired of changing up his looks every damn time a new poster surfaces. He rubs his cheek. “I’m going to grow a beard now,” Steve declares and glances at Bucky, knowing that he’ll hate the next suggestion. Steve winces a little. “You should shave yours and cut your hair.” 

“Excuse you?” Bucky sounds flabbergasted and by the tone that he uses in his voice, it seems like Bucky has forgotten all the nerves that the poster have awoken in him. For as long as Steve can remember Bucky, which is for about three years now, he’s always had long hair and he’s always had a beard. And for as Bucky cares to tell him, he’s had a beard since he could grow it and he has little care for cutting his hair. He likes it long and to be honest so does Steve. It’s nice to stroke his fingers through when they try to sleep. And it’s nice when Bucky asks him to braid it. So the idea of a clean shaven Bucky with short hair is an odd one. He would almost look decent. Definitely handsome, Bucky is already handsome but that might make him look proper handsome. 

“You heard me,” Steve snickers, a little amused with Bucky’s reaction to the suggestion. “You should cut your hair and shave your beard. Maybe even wear a hat and put some pomade in your hair. You can have my bandana instead of the red one, you’ll look like a completely different man?” Steve suggests, hoping that the offering of Steve’s prized blue bandana with stars on will soften the blow a bit. Bucky snorts at the ridiculous suggestion. 

“And what are you gonna do then? Grow a beard like you say? Grow out your hair?” Bucky cackles in such a way that Steve narrows his eyes at the other. Bucky’s making it sound like a challenge without even being aware that he is. 

“I can do that,” Steve defends himself. Growing a beard shouldn’t be difficult. Once he’s past the initial itch of it, he’ll be fine. If anything, it’ll save him a bit of time every three days to shave every damn morning. He can just let it grow to prove to Bucky that he can. “But I think we should stick with the original plan and leave the day after tomorrow like we said. Just stay in camp tonight and tomorrow, rest up. You fish, I draw, we wash up, wash our clothes, and pin out a route to head North. We should start heading up North now rather than North-East. At least until we’re halfway through Montana.” 

Bucky doesn’t react at first. He just stands still and listens to what Steve has to say. Then he nods a couple of times and rubs his face. Steve can tell by the tense way of Bucky’s shoulders that he doesn’t like the idea of sitting around and waiting for another day and a half before they can ride the fuck out of Mudridge and get away from the blasted posters. Steve just hopes that there are none up all the way in Montana, that Wyoming is as far as they go. 

“Yeah, yeah alright, alright.” Bucky places his hands on his hips and looks down at the dirt. Then he turns, still not pleased with himself. “Fuck this, I’m gonna fish,” Bucky mutters, grabs his rod from the ground, and heads back to the river. Steve smiles a little after him and comes back to rest against the tree log behind him. He spends the next hour watching Bucky in the water as he fishes. 

 

\--

 

He has been restless all fucking day and no matter how he twists and turns, he can’t come to rest. Not even when Steve draped his heavy arm around Bucky’s waist to keep him still. Something that would otherwise soothed him beyond belief now works him up even more. Every single time Bucky closes his eyes and tries to sleep, he hears how the woods move. 

Which is ridiculous, of course. Of course there’s life in the woods! Most of the animals that wander around are nocturnal. Now, after twilight, the does and deer are trying to come to rest. But the hunters come out. Owls fly from branch to branch. Foxes trot around. There was a badger calling out in the midst of the night and Bucky even thought he heard a wolf or two. That, of course, could be his mind playing tricks on him. 

He doesn’t want to hear people in the woods just as much as he wants to hear wolves in this hour. Paranoia makes one hear whatever you  _ don’t  _ want to hear. So after having tried to sleep for a solid three hours, Steve snoring softly behind him and no longer pressing comforting kisses to the base of Bucky’s neck, he gives up. Carefully, Bucky goes out of their tent and pulls on his jacket. 

Everything is starting to warm up now. The days are longer and there is some heat in the sun again. But at night, it’s still fucking cold. There’s hardly anything left of their fire, just smoldering coals that have even stopped smoking. He doesn’t bother relighting it, that would just attract attention. So he sits down on the log in front of it instead and rolls himself a cigarette. Figuring that a smoke and some bourbon from his flask will settle his nerves long enough to get him to sleep. 

Maybe, all he needs to do is sit out here for a bit to scare the wildlife away. So the woods will go quiet and he won’t be hearing ghosts. Wishful thinking, of course. Still, the strong taste of the bourbon makes him feel better. And the cigarette settles his nerves and the shake in his hand. Though the cold still bites at his knuckles, now feeling raw and cracked from the long, cold and dry winter. 

Bucky doesn’t keep track of how long he sits outside. He finishes his cigarette and rolls himself a second one in the dark. So he’s outside for at least ten minutes, the bourbon has warmed his insides a little bit and has made him feel more relaxed. At least until he hears the cocking of a gun and feels the metal barrel press lightly against the back of his head. 

Bucky freezes, nearly dropping his cigarette. He stops breathing and feels how his heart races in his chest.  _ This is it, _ he catches himself thinking.  _ This is it.  _ They didn’t even make it to fucking Canada before a bullet was put through the back of his head. He just hopes that they shoot Steve first, in his sleep so he doesn’t have to wake in a panic at the sound of a gunshot and not know what happened. So he doesn’t have to see him. 

_ Please let them shoot me,  _ Bucky thinks. He much rather wants a bullet through his head and be turned in as dead than brought in to hang. They have no friends left that could help them and even few in the area. The gang wouldn’t come for them. Especially not when they learn that they aren’t dead after all. That is a betrayal all in it’s own. 

“Never known ya to be this careless, Barnes. What’s this, growing old?” The voice behind him is light and teasing with a childish and careless ring to it. It’s vaguely familiar to Bucky. He squints a little in the dark as he tries to remember who the owner of the voice is. And then it hits him with the fury of a bull who’s seen red. 

“Barton?!” Bucky barks out and turns, a move he otherwise would have thought to be risky, and smacks the revolver out of his face. Clint, cheerful as ever, tilts his head back and barks out a laugh. A couple of steps behind him is a red haired woman, dressed all in black as the widow she is and holding a shotgun up to her shoulder. She has an amused smirk on her beautiful and dangerous face. 

“Yeah well. Who else, huh?” Clint says and steps over the log to come sit beside Bucky, holstering his revolver. “Put a log on that fire, it’s fucking freezing,” Clint says before helping himself and reaching for some of their firewood that he tosses on top of the smoldering pile of ash. There’s enough glow left for the wood to still catch fire, Bucky guesses, so he does nothing. “You got a drink? Food? We’ve been riding for days,” 

Natasha comes around them and doesn’t say a word as she sits down beside Clint, setting the shotgun down beside her. With her dress consisting basically of black lace, her ghostly white skin and bright red hair makes her look like a ghost. It doesn’t help that she barely speaks and moves so quietly. It always gives Bucky the creeps but he admires her commitment to her looks. It’s been nearly seven years since her husband was killed and yet here she is, still loyal to him in her own way. 

Bucky reaches for the bag behind him and pulls it out. Had it been anyone else, he wouldn’t have fed them. But Clint and Natasha are different. You look after your friends when you meet them and in return, one day, they might be the ones looking after you. He doesn’t find much that he can share with them. The trout that they had cooked earlier in the evening has been devoured. He doesn’t want to share one of their tins of food but he’s got little choice so it seems. 

As Bucky passes them a tin of pork & beans and the opened package of biscuits, the wood that Clint tossed on the smoldering ash starts to smoke. “You know you guys fucked up, right?” Clint asks Bucky as he takes out a knife and jams it into the can to open it up. He spills a little of the water, sauce or oil, Bucky isn’t entirely sure on the ground and on his boot but he doesn’t seem to care. He licks off his fingers and passes the tin to Natasha who continues to open it in a neater way. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Bucky says, deciding to play dumb. There’s just enough light for Bucky to make out that Clint rolls his eyes and reaches into his chest pocket on his jean jacket. He takes out a piece of paper, shakes it open, and passes it to Bucky. It’s another poster declaring that James Barnes is wanted dead or alive by the state for the same hefty price that Bucky had seen the day before. 

“And there’s a nice one for Steve’s head too. Where is he, by the way? He sleeping in the tent?” Clint nods over to it. Bucky nods and passes the poster back to Clint who folds it three times and stuffs it back into his pocket. “So well, you guys fucked up. That’s a decent price on your heads now.” 

“What, you gonna turn us in?” Bucky snorts at the idea. He’s met many crooks in his life but Clint Barton deserves a spot at the top. An honest crook but still a crook. The idea that he rides around and collects bounties is an idea that’s terribly amusing to Bucky. Considering Clint’s own gang history, having ridden together with the Starks for a little while and spawning from that circus which specialised in ripping people off with their “exotic” shows. 

“Maybe.” Clint shrugs and gives the piece of firewood a light kick. Flames lick up it now and there’s a flash of orange over his face. “Nat and I, we live a life by the law now. Unfortunately, a life by the law means that we get paid fuck all. And she’s not exactly willing to become a housewife, pop out a couple of kids, or work as a maid, you know.” He nods over to Natasha who snorts and shakes her head, muttering in Russian under her breath. “But you know what pays? Bounty hunting and it pays well. And we got a certain skill set that definitely helps us. We’ve become a lot more comfortable in our lives ever since we started hunting.” 

“So you come here and you’re gonna turn us in?” Bucky asks him with a frown, rolling himself another cigarette. “What on earth makes you think that we’ll go with you?” 

“Because we’ll ask nicely. Others won’t.” Clint winks at him and takes the tin of food back from Natasha. There’s a fork in it now. He stirs it a bit and then sets it down by the edge of the fire. 

“You should have just shot me in the back of my head,” Bucky mutters and places the cigarette against his lips and lights it with a match. Natasha snorts again and says something else in Russian. Whatever it is, Clint must think it’s hysterical because he barks out a laugh. Bucky narrows his eyes at her. “What did she say?” 

“She says you’re so dramatic,” Clint snickers as Natasha just smiles sweetly at Bucky. Bucky waves her off and takes a drag. “But do consider it. We will ask nicely, only once, maybe twice depending on our mood. And we’ll take you in alive.” 

“Not gonna make much difference if all they’re gonna do is hang us, is there?” Bucky asks him annoyed. Clint just shrugs in response. It’d give them another couple of weeks at the most with one another and then they’d be hanged, maybe together, maybe on different days. “Look, what happened at Lowpeaks. That was a shitshow. There’s no denying that. But it’s not like it looks either. Steve just stopped a guy from beating up a girl. Couldn’t have been older than fifteen. And he just stopped that guy from ever hurting another girl ever again. What Steve did was the right thing,” 

“Maybe,” Clint says noncommittally. “But the law doesn’t see it that way. They’ve got a crooked sense of right and wrong and you know that. And we just follow the road that pays, man, no hard feelings.” Clint pats him on his shoulder. By now the fire is roaring again. 

“Listen.” Bucky leans in a bit and decides to make a final attempt at being rational before he gets nasty with the both of them. He doesn’t want to but if he has to then he will shoot them both, he thinks. He should be able to shoot Natasha before she reaches the shotgun with the element of surprise. The problem, however, is Clint, sharpshooter and gunslinger with a reputation to never have missed. Clint is fast and sits right next to him. There’s nothing that stops him from putting a bullet in his gut and that’s a slow, painful way to die. 

Natasha leans in a little as well, obviously interested in hearing what Bucky has to say. Clint doesn’t seem interested at all. “Steve and I, we’re out. We don’t do fucked up shit like that anymore. We’re trying to get away from here.” He neglects telling them that the plan is Canada. “Stark thinks that we’re dead. We faked our way out of it. All we want is a fresh start, we just want to live a normal life,” 

“I know Stark thinks that you’re dead,” Clint says. Natasha chimes in with something in Russian that Bucky can’t make sense of and Clint nods again. “We met him down in Arkansas, we noticed you guys were missing and he told us you both went down in that shoot out you had with Rumlow’s gang back in Indiana. Now imagine our surprise when we found posters asking for your heads in Iowa? For a different crime than the ones you did under that jackass’ command?”

Bucky tosses the remains of the cigarette back in the fire and stays quiet. He doesn’t quite know what he can say in response to that. Doesn’t seem to matter much either, Clint waves with his hand as if he resets the entire conversation. “Look, I don’t care what beef you guys have with him. What I care about is, as much as I like your sour face, is getting paid, alright? And you guys are a handsome sum of money. It’s not personal,” 

“By turning us in you damn well make it personal!” Bucky exclaims, louder than he originally intents. He feels his blood flush his face and warm his neck and his back with anger. Clint has always been a selfish bastard, Bucky knows this but this takes it to an entirely different level that he didn’t think Clint was capable off. “We’re your fucking friends! You’re talking about turning in your fucking friends!” Bucky all but shouts at them both. Natasha doesn’t bat an eye at him. 

“Buck? Who you talking to?” Steve calls out from the tent with a sleepy voice. The anger is still boiling within him but at the realisation that he’s now woken up Steve, he feels his insides go cold. He sighs in defeat and runs his hand through his hair. Shuts his eyes and takes in a breath just as the tent flap is pulled away and Steve comes out to them. He’s holding a gun in his hand, ready to aim if he needs to. Bucky hopes he doesn’t, he truly does. He doesn’t want to shoot their friends and he knows Steve wont be able to do so either. He was always hesitant on the trigger. “Clint? Natasha?” 

Natasha turns to Steve and waves. Bucky imagines she’s smiling brightly before she greets him in Russian. Steve gets a confused expression on his face but forces a smile and holsters his gun now that he sees that there are friends around the fire and not enemies. Depending on how you see it. “Yeah, yeah you too,” he tells her and comes around to join them around the fire. He’s not wearing his shirt and in the dark, Bucky can still make out the mark he sucked on Steve’s neck earlier. He knows that the others can as well and his ears flush hot. 

“They found our posters,” Bucky explains, hoping that Steve’s got a softer way of turning them off the idea of turning them in. “And they want to turn us in for the prize money. Where did you even find the posters?” Bucky asks them suddenly, turning his focus back on them both. Wanting to know which village had them plastered up. Based on their story, it should be somewhere along the same route that they came from, maybe through a more southern path. 

“Dustcreek,” Natasha says flatly. There’s a strong hint of a Russian accent in her voice. 

“It’s a shithole really. And the creek is not dusted. Jesus, that was the biggest damn creek I’ve seen in my entire life.” Clint lets out a whistle and Bucky calms down a little. Dustcreek is south of them which is what he wanted to hear. That means there’s still a chance of no posters being put up in Montana and they can pass through safely.  _ If, _ that is, Clint and Natasha let them go. He doesn’t know how else to get them off their tail. And all the money that they’ve gathered barely reaches up to $1500 dollars.

It would set them back to nothing at all and at the same time still leave them with the issue of bounty hunters coming after them. If one of them got real enthusiastic and desperately needed the money. 

“But… why would you turn us in? We’re your friends?” Steve asks and sounds just as surprised, just as shocked as Bucky feels. But Steve doesn’t sound angry. He just sounds hurt and it breaks Bucky’s heart a little. 

“It’s what we do now, Steve. It’s nothing personal,” Clint tells him. Natasha squeezes Steve’s knee as if that makes everything better again. Bucky wants to groan. Instead, he just presses his palms against his eyes and takes a deep breath. “But you, Steve. You stabbed a guy, killed him. He was apparently the son of the grocer and the grocer is well liked and has a lot of influence in town. And you, Bucky. You shot a father of five. Now the folks of Lowpeaks want some form of vengeance.” 

“I stabbed him and I would stab him again given the opportunity. He deserved it,” Steve says in a low rumble of a tone. Almost as if he threatens Clint. He isn’t, of course. Steve is just reliving the anger that he felt at that particular moment in the hotel. Clint waves a hand at him again, then folds them together. 

“I’m not arguing what’s right or what’s wrong here with you, Steve. Hell, I might have done the same. But what’s right and what’s wrong isn’t decided by us, it’s decided by people who twist it for their own benefit and from their eyes, revenge seems like the right thing, in the form of bringing you two in. I don’t make the rules,” 

“No, you just simply benefit from it,” Bucky snaps in response. He wants to take out his flask to drink again but then he’d have to share it with the others as well. He’s already fed Natasha and Clint, he doesn’t want to do much more than that. Clint raises his shoulders. He can’t argue against that, he knows that they benefit from it. 

“So help us out,” Steve starts. “For old times sake, for friendship's sake. We’re done here, we’re just trying to disappear and head up North. We want a normal life. We just did what we thought was right, we don’t deserve to have our chance taken away because of that. Because we know what really happened and if they knew, they’d let us walk. So be the better man here, Clint, and let us walk,” 

Clint clicks with his tongue and smiles at Steve. Bucky isn’t entirely sure that he likes the smile that comes over the other man. It unnerves him a little, mostly because he can’t read it and it seems like it could mean half a million different things. Some of them good and some of them meaning a knife in his back. “The world runs on money, Steve, and you got a pretty price on your head. Like I said, it’s nothing personal.” 

“No, you’re just being a greedy asshole,” Bucky comments and looks away to the horses. If he’s got to stare at Clint’s face for one more second, he might just punch him. Natasha starts talking in Russian to Clint and the three men sit in silence as she speaks even if only one of them understands what she says. When she’s finished talking, Clint hums. 

“I guess we could do that.” Clint shifts a little on the log and takes off his bandana from around his neck. He pulls the tin of pork and beans out from the edge of the fire with it and pokes the fork around it a couple of times. “Natasha doesn’t want to turn you guys in. So, she’s got a little plan,”

“Oh yeah?” Steve speaks up. He still has that dark and almost dangerous tone in his voice, as if he doesn’t like what she might be insinuating. Bucky doesn’t blame him. Natasha and Clint have the upper hand, communicating in another language right where they are sitting. It’s hardly… fair. 

“Yes but it will require from the both of you to not just be goody two shoes for the rest of your lives. But that you’d go downright proper samaritan and throw all of your guns in the river kind of good. If we decide to do this, you can never,  _ ever _ get in trouble again. In any way. If you see another guy beating up a girl, Steve, you’ll have to walk away. And you, Bucky, you can’t pull a gun on anyone anymore, like the trigger happy asshole I know you are,” Clint says and glares at both of them, along with a lecturing finger. It strikes Bucky that this is the first time he’s seen Clint be serious. “If we do this and you die a second time, you will have to stay dead and buried seven feet under the ground.” 

“What do you suggest we do then?” Steve asks and Bucky’s glad that Steve’s the one asking him. He’s sure that if he’s got to talk more, then he will just sound rude. And now, as much as he hates to admit it, it might be best to be a bit more rational and  _ polite _ . Steve is a little bit better at that than he is. 

“Switcheroo,” Natasha says in broken English and takes the tin of food out of Clint’s hand. He just passes it over to her without a single comment or complaint and he looks oddly fondly at her as he does, Bucky notices. Making him wonder if there is something going on between them. Clint looks head over heels at that particular moment. But he feels confident in that Natasha still mourns her husband. 

“Switcheroo?” Steve asks confused and frowns at her. Natasha doesn’t answer and starts eating the content in the tin. 

“Switcheroo,” Clint says with a content little smile. “This, is why you’ll have to stay dead. Because it’s our reputation on the line here and believe it or not, we’ve got a very good reputation with the law now, mostly in Missouri. Considering your fuck up happened in Iowa, we should be able to pull it off.” Clint glances up to the stars as he thinks the matter over. He looks dramatically thoughtful and Bucky almost wants to tell him to cut the crap. Still, Bucky thinks it’s a little bit funny and snorts. 

“You two have a good reputation with the law? Don’t make me laugh.” Bucky rolls his eyes at them and entirely misses the insulted look that Clint tosses in his direction. Natasha only smiles. “You grew up in a thieving circus that made a living of ripping people off and she gunned down the twelve men who burned down her ranch and shot up her husband, kids and staff.” Bucky gestures over to them both. Natasha looks pleased with herself. Clint sticks his tongue out in a childish retort. 

“People change, people pull themselves out. You of all people should know that, Barnes, trying to pull out and start a new life and all that shit,” Clint retorts and gives Bucky a light kick on his leg. He doesn’t really care, it doesn’t hurt. 

“Tell us about the switcheroo,” Steve changes the subject back to the original topic again and to their potential way out. Clint clears his throat and sits a little bit straighter. Natasha puts down the now empty tin of food between her feet, crosses her arms, and leans in against her knees. 

“The switcheroo is simple, we haven’t actually done it but...” Clint glances at Natasha and shrugs. “We should manage. What we do is we find two people who won't be missed. Not here, further away where there are no posters. About your built, both of you. A blonde and brunette, someone who could pass for you from a distance. And we shoot them instead, the one most unlike their supposed counterpart in the face and the other in the chest, just so we don’t come across as suspicious. We just smash his face against a rock or something, hard, and say he fell off the horse. So they’re both somewhat unrecognizable. Dress them up in your clothes, boots, and whatever you always carry on you, something personal. Natasha and I, we deliver those men instead, get the pay out. Government believes you’re dead, they’re happy. You guys change your looks, new clothes, new names, behave from that point onward and you’re on your way, everybody happy,” 

Bucky doesn’t respond at first. He just glances at Steve and tries to make out what the other is thinking just from his gaze alone. Bucky doesn’t feel too comfortable with a plan. It sounds a little bit too much like a plot of a book but with enough thought to details, then it has to work. He thinks, he hopes. Books have to be based a little on the truth, right? 

“Guess we have no other way,” Steve eventually sighs in defeat. He looks at Bucky over the fire. “It’s that or they shoot us. Or they bring us in to hang. I don’t want to hang or get shot ever again Buck,” 

Bucky groans and presses his palm against his forehead. He takes a deep breath and then looks into the fire. Clint takes the liberty to throw more wood on the fire to keep it going a while longer. “Fine, we do the switcheroo,” Bucky agrees to it. 

“It for best,” Natasha says in her broken English and smiles at Bucky, words missing in her sentence. Bucky smiles faintly at her and then at Steve. That’s when his smile grows to something more. Steve looks relaxed, happier and less worried now. Steve believes in the Switcheroo plan and so for his sake, Bucky will as well. If Steve needs Bucky to believe in something, he will do it with all of his heart.

“Well then.” Clint smirks to them both, claps his hands together. “You boys got some liquor laying around or anything? This agreement and the prospect of riding together is something we should toast to and celebrate. We’ve got so much to catch up on.” Bucky sighs and nods at Steve to go and get their second bottle of expensive Bourbon that they rebought to celebrate their arrival to a new life. Meant to be opened in Alberta when they got there. 

Instead, one had gone to the bullet wound in Steve’s leg and now the other towards the death of two strangers and their own rebirth. 

Third time's the charm, Bucky hopes. The third one would be opened in Alberta, on land that they owned. 


	4. Chapter 4

Bucky does just as Steve suggested and shaves his beard. Though he does it with a whole lot of complaints and moaning, only growing louder when both Clint and Natasha agree that it is a good idea for the time being. 

Steve and Bucky manage to steer the direction of their hunt for the lookalikes further up North. Arguing that the further away they get from the state that issued their bounty, the less likely that the disappearance of two men with similar features will be linked together. 

Natasha and Clint originally wanted to ride into Idaho, something that Bucky manages to deflect with the statement that Idaho still neighbors Nevada. And even if they stay all the way up North in the state, they will be too close to Stark and the others for their liking. By now, the whole gang and caravan must have arrived in Nevada and god only knows how long it will take until they fuck that over and have to run even further. 

Stark is clever enough to stay away from going south. Always wanting to keep to his rule to jump at least two states over which will, in that scenario, bring him to an unruly Mexico. He wouldn’t go to California because then he’d just corner himself. He wouldn’t go back the direction he came, because that is idiotic. So the only path he’d logically take would be North and that gives the potential of passing through them. That is a risk they don’t want to take. 

It’s a lot of hypothetical  _ if’ _ s but eventually Natasha tells Clint to just give in and ride into Montana. What difference would it make? In the end, they are further away and as soon as they have bodies to bring back to Missouri, they can just take a train. It isn’t as if they can’t afford it. Clint could never say no to Natasha. So Montana it is, followed by a train ride to Missouri, and Bucky and Steve will be able to go wherever they want. 

Riding with Clint and Natasha proves to be a challenge entirely different from what they originally anticipated however. Clint and Bucky are two different entities. Bucky liking the quiet and the peace and Clint liking to talk on about everything and nothing at all. It’s not that Bucky can’t talk, Steve knows. It’s just that after a while of being social that he needs to recharge from it all. He can’t recharge with Clint always talking on in their presence. So they fight, a lot. Well, Bucky screams at Clint before he goes off on his own for a couple of hours, and Clint will just turn to Natasha and Steve and ask what Bucky’s problem is before carrying on with his day. 

Riding with Natasha is a stark contrast compared to riding with Clint. Riding with Natasha is like riding with a ghost. She is quiet to the point where you don’t hear her walking and she hardly ever says anything. When she does, it startles both Steve and Bucky with the sudden reminder that she’s there amongst them and only Clint seems to be immune to it. 

Having Natasha around is nice however. She looks after them. Not out of the goodness of her heart but out of annoyance, she says. She washes their clothes and makes them bathe in the rivers because she can’t stand their smell and with her, there’s a little bit more order wherever they decide to camp out. In the evenings occasionally, if the weather is right for it and the sky is covered with a million bright stars, she sings for them all. Soft little whispers of songs in Russian that lull them right to sleep. 

Steve catches more than once how Clint will sag asleep against her when she sings and how she puts her arm around him and strokes her fingers through his hair while looking up at the sky. One evening when he’s resting back to back with Bucky, he takes out his journal and sketches the two of them like that. Thinking that it is oddly tender. 

Natasha looks at them then and smiles, like she knows. With that little smile ghosting her beautiful yet terrifying features, Steve feels confident enough to give Bucky a small kiss when Bucky declares he’s going to bed. Bucky startles but Natasha just turns her head away and pretends like she didn’t see a damn thing. 

She knows, Steve realises with a light sensation in his chest. She knows and she gives them a moment so they don’t have to live in secrecy for the time being that she and Clint ride with them. Steve loves her a little for that. 

 

\--

 

“I have found you,” Clint declares when he rides in on his horse and with a move that belongs in a circus, he dismounts his Black Shire and lands on the ground, sinks a little through his knees, and then regains his balance again in the same bounce. “Still looking for you though.” Clint waves his hand towards Bucky in the river as he steps over to them. Leaving his horse standing. 

“Oh?” Steve perks up a little. It feels like they have been looking for months when in fact it has just been six weeks. It can’t be that hard to find someone who looks just enough like himself, Steve originally thought. But Clint and Natasha want to be unbelievably thorough. 

If the guy Steve pointed out wasn’t tall enough, then he wasn’t muscular enough, too fat or too skinny. His hair would be a shade too dark or his eyes would be the wrong colour. On one occasion, they found someone who had been perfect but he had a couple of tattoos. He supposes that it’s a good thing that Clint and Natasha are so adamant in their search of the dopplegangers but it’s getting a little annoying not getting anywhere. 

Spring is changing into summer and their original plan was to be in Canada by now so they’d have time to build something to survive the winter. Now, they’d be lucky if they get there halfway through the summer and even have a cabin built. If they don’t have that done by the time the first snow falls, he doesn’t know what to do. 

“There’s a farm a few miles west of here and then a road back up north. They got a bunch of workers that came in, season workers. One of them is a blonde guy, hair’s a bit too long though but that’s not the end of the world, ‘bout your height, farm worker his entire life so he’s roughly the same size as you are.” Clint plops himself down by the campfire and stretches out his legs. In the river, Bucky has turned his back towards them again and continues fishing. Natasha hangs up the last bit of the laundry. 

Steve gets up from by his tent, revolver in hand with the cloth that he’s been using to clean it with, and walks over to Clint. “So he’d do? How do we get to him?” Steve sits down across from Clint and feels a discomforting feeling in his stomach. Now when there is a plan for him, he feels a little hesitant to the idea of killing a man just because he happens to look like Steve. It’s not right. 

“Well, did some digging in the saloon. Apparently it’s the same bunch of guys every damn summer. And blonde guy, his name is Jonah, apparently drinks the money he earns away as fast as he makes it, so there’ll be plenty of moments where he walks back to the farm after drinking himself out of pocket. He’s not particularly liked because he’s a bit of a shouty, nasty drunk. So nobody will miss him if he doesn’t turn up one day. Except the farmer who might be pissed for a day. But no one would be surprised if the drunken ass fell into a ditch on his way back.” 

“Right,” Steve mutters and looks back down at his revolver and continues to clean it. 

“Now we just got to find a clone for your pal over there and we should be good to go. Then we will make our leave.” Clint smirks and leans back against the tree, pulls up one of his feet to his thigh and pulls off his boot. He does the same with his other foot. 

“Thank fuck for that!” Bucky calls out from the river, now wading out of it with the line held high. “I’m looking forward to not having to look at your ugly mug anymore,” Bucky says and steps out of the water with his jeans soaked through. It’s a warm day though so Steve bets that Bucky will take them off and let them dry in the sun while he lazes around. At the end of the fishing line, Bucky holds up a rather large lake trout that will feed them all. The fish struggles. 

“Har de fucking har.” Clint rolls his eyes at him and leans back against the tree, wiping his brow. The sun is beaming down on Steve’s back, making him feel overheated just in the minute that he’s been sitting back in the sun. How Natasha still wears black in weather like this is entirely beyond him. “We have all summer. I don’t think Jonah’s going anywhere but I want this over with. I’m sure that you guys do too, we shouldn’t stretch to far out. Stay within a mile or ten, just incase our dear friend Jonah decides to go anywhere,” 

“I look tonight.” Natasha hangs up the last piece of laundry, a shirt of Clint’s, and comes over to them. “I go to town, you go too much.” She gives Clint a light kick on his thigh when she passes by him and stops beside Steve. “Where Jonah go? Town?” she asks, Steve looks up to her and forgets about Bucky prying the hook out of the mouth of the trout for a moment. Steve isn’t certain if Natasha speaks more English now because of her company but he likes to think that she speaks more than she used to. She sounds more confident, even if her longer exchanges still get translated from Russian to Clint. 

“He goes to town here, yeah.” Clint looks at her, squinting at the sun that shines in his face. Natasha has her back turned to it so she must just look like one large silhouette of darkness to him. 

“Good, then I go. Steve come with. We go to next town, not good to find Bucky in same.” She shakes her head, then looks down at Steve with a smile. “Treat me dinner, we will find Bucky together in Old Ridge,” she declares, then walks away from them. Steve glances over at Bucky who looks after Natasha with narrowed eyes. His gaze softens a little when he catches Steve and he shrugs before he starts gutting the trout. Steve can tell that Bucky doesn’t like the idea.

 

\--

 

“Are you jealous?” Steve asks him later. The sun is still shining hot and warm on them.  Surrounding them are wildflowers, there’s the sound of the river rushing a bit harder than by their own camp but still a relaxing sound. There’s a little bit of a breeze that only chases a momentary chill over his skin and disappears just as fast. Steve tilts his head to the side and watches Bucky who has both of his arms behind his head and has both of his eyes closed as he enjoys the feeling of sun against his skin. 

Steve rolls to his side and pops up an elbow underneath him. Bucky’s opened his long johns by his chest and has rolled them up all the way under his knees to enjoy the nice summer day. Steve smiles fondly at the sight, brushing his fingers over Bucky’s dark chest hair. Somewhere around them, Bucky’s jeans are tossed away to dry. “Buck, are you jealous?” Steve asks again, not letting go of the look in Bucky’s eyes earlier that noon. They’re alone now, having wandered off together after Bucky had finished gutting the trout. 

Natasha had taken over, saying she would prepare a meal for him and Clint later when she and Steve were out. Bucky’s face had been sour at that but he had handed over the fish before storming off. So Steve took the chance to follow. Bucky didn’t speak at first but after ten minutes of walking, he pointed out a bird and then everything was like nothing ever happened. After having walked for what must be half an hour they had both decided to just laze in the sun like cats for a bit. 

Bucky takes a big breath through his nose and his chest rises under Steve’s hand. He opens his eyes, wonderful blue and grey, and looks at nothing. Then he brushes his lips with his hand and looks at Steve, giving him a forced sort of smile. “Maybe a little,” he admits to Steve. “It’s just. We haven’t had much time together. Alone, I mean. And she’s the one who gets to take you out for dinner outside of the camp, leaving me behind with the asshole. I want to go with you. I want to be the one to eat with you but she gets to.” Bucky sounds bitter and Steve’s heart breaks a little for him. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to Bucky’s forehead then to his nose. 

“I know, I’d rather it be you too,” Steve whispers to him, brushes their noses together and kisses Bucky. There is no hesitation in the kiss. Bucky kisses him back just as sweet. “It’s just for this once, just for a little while longer. When they’re gone, it’s back down to us, then we can be ourselves again,”

Bucky doesn’t respond to that. He moves one of his arms from behind his head and drapes it around Steve’s shoulders as he sighs. His eyes stare up at the leaves of the tree above them, cascading their shadow of a dance on his face. “You think we’ll ever have a chance to go about as us? You think I’ll ever be able to take you out for food like that? That there’ll ever come a time where we’d be able to do that?” Bucky asks and looks at Steve. 

Steve wants to sigh but doesn’t. He doesn’t want to come across as deflated in front of Bucky. Truth is, he doesn’t think they can. They’ll never be able to do be just them like they want to around other people. He knows what happens when men have relationships with one another like they do. “No,” he admits and doesn’t look at Bucky to catch his saddened expression. 

“Me too,” Bucky admits in a soft whisper. Steve looks back at him and sees that Bucky’s gone far, far away in his head. Hiding away in some deep thought that will do nothing but sadden him further and worsen his mood for the rest of the day, not to mention evening. 

“Hey.” Steve slides his fingers from Bucky’s chest to his jaw, turning Bucky’s head a little so he’s forced to look Steve in his eyes and come back to the real world. “When we’re out of here, when we’re in Canada, we won’t have to need people. We’ll be on our own, somewhere hidden away amongst the trees, in a nice clearing that we’ll find for ourselves and close to a river so you can fish, alright? And there, there we’ll be able to be us just like we are.” Steve purposely speaks the last four words in a playful tone, stroking his fingertip over Bucky’s lips, and sees how he cracks a little smile at least.

Steve kisses him, moving his hand to the back of Bucky’s head, and keeps him into place. Steve makes a pleased little noise when he feels Bucky return the favour and grab his hair. It works, though Steve’s not certain of what works the best; having spoken Bucky out of it or the kiss. Though if he has to pick one, he’ll take the kiss as the best contender. 

“We’ll have to buy stuff every now and then. How do you propose we solve that without people, huh?” Bucky whispers against Steve’s lips. But he’s smiling so Steve knows he’s succeeded in pulling Bucky out of his mood. Bucky is just teasing him now. 

Taking a dramatic sigh, Steve comes to rest a bit more over Bucky and pulls his hand back from behind his head. He brushes the hairs on his chest again and kisses the faint stubble on his throat. Seeing Bucky without a beard is still something that he’s getting used to but now Steve’s growing to like it. “We’ll just go to town to buy whatever we need, when we need, and then we’ll ride straight back. We don’t have to socialize, we don’t have to know anybody’s names. We don’t have to be involved. We’d just be two upstanding citizens, minding our own business and that business is no ones but ours. We’d be hermits.” 

“Hermits, huh?” Bucky snorts at the thought and rests his head back against the ground, fingers brushing lazily through Steve’s longer hair. Not that it’s grown much but now that he’s no longer brushing it back with pomade, it feels like he’s grown three inches of hair  in the past couple of weeks. 

“Seems like the life for you, doesn’t it? Not have to give a fuck about other people but yourself?” Steve teases but he also knows there’s a grain of truth to it. With the gang, they once rode past the home of a hermit they found by accident and the man had come barging out with a shotgun to threaten them to get off his land. They had all left, of course, but Bucky had looked over his shoulder at the man and had the sort of expression on his face that was only in agreement of someone’s life choices. 

Steve kisses further down Bucky’s throat, down to the little drop at the base of his chest and then on it. Bucky chuckles a little, chest raising and dropping quickly as he does. Steve rests his chin on it and looks sweetly up at Bucky who brushes some of his hair out of his eyes. “I’d give a fuck about you though,” Bucky whispers in a soft tone, a gesture and consideration that Steve knows means a whole lot coming from Bucky. Steve winks at him and shifts again so he’s on top of Bucky, not caring about the heat of the summer sun anymore, and kisses Bucky. 

“I only need you in my life,” Steve whispers to him before kissing him again, deeper this time as Bucky shifts his legs underneath Steve up to either side of his hips. “Don’t need anyone else,” Steve murmurs and begins to nip at the skin on Bucky’s neck. Bucky’s breathing hitches when Steve does that and to tease Bucky extra, Steve rolls his hips up against Bucky’s, ensuring that Bucky feels how Steve’s dick is getting harder in his pants. Bucky groans and tilts his head and, pressed in between their stomachs, Steve can feel that Bucky is in the same position. 

“Steve, Steve.” Bucky pats Steve’s shoulder rapidly to get his attention. Steve sucks lightly at the skin just below his ear but is careful not to leave a mark. “Steve, they’ll hear us,” Bucky says, then groans after when Steve shifts his legs so he’s kneeling, lifting up Bucky’s ass onto his thighs,  and rolls his hips towards him again. It drives Bucky wild when Steve does that. “They’ll hear us.” 

“No, they won’t.” Steve kisses Bucky again and despite Bucky’s protests, he kisses Steve back with a lot of eager, rocking his hips a little towards Steve. “Clint’s half deaf, that’s why he talks so loud. And even so,” Steve mutters against Bucky’s lips in between kisses. “He’s probably napping in the sun. And Natasha? She’s not going to think any less of us, you know that.” Steve presses his forehead against Bucky’s and looks down into those intelligent and alert blue eyes of his. Pupils grown wide and dark from the most bit of action they’ve had since getting their company, lips a beautiful swollen pink. 

“So please.” Steve kisses Bucky again, sweetly this time to get his thoughts on another track. “Please let me have you. I want you so bad,” he says. Bucky looks him in his eyes, considers the question and then nods, pulling Steve in for a heated kiss. In it, Steve can’t help but grin. He slides his hand down Bucky’s side to feel more of him and rolls his hips towards Bucky again, coaxing another moan out of him. 

Now with the permission to continue, Steve shifts again. He moves back and pulls Bucky with him to sit up, pushing the long johns now past Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky, kissing him heatedly, helps to the best of his extent and shrugs the red fabric of the long johns past his thick and muscular shoulders. Once his upper body is out of it, Steve pushes at Bucky’s chest, making him lay down amidst the grass and wildflowers again, looking absolutely stunning like that. 

Steve winks at him and strokes his chest with the hand that pushed Bucky down. The tip of Bucky’s semi-erect cock is just barely peeking out of his underwear. With Bucky’s cooperation, Steve pulls at the legs of the long johns and tugs it off, leaving Bucky entirely naked in the middle of pressed flowers. It’s a sight that makes Steve’s mouth water a little and at the same time marvel with beauty and an intense need to draw it. Maybe in Canada, maybe one day. 

Bucky has a coy little grin on him, almost as if he’s trying to say,  _ You started it, now you do something about it _ . Steve will do that with absolute pleasure. He kneels in between Bucky’s legs again and strokes his cock lazily. Bucky lets out a soft shudder of a sigh and closes his eyes. He tilts his head back a little and brings a hand in his hair, fisting it. Steve doesn’t rush it, they have all afternoon. 

“How do you want it?” Steve asks Bucky. He feels the cock change in his touch, growing harder and thicker. Bucky’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and his eyes cast themselves up to the sea of green above him. “How do you want it? Do you want me in you? Do you want me on top of you? Riding you?” Steve’s cock is hard in his own pants. At that moment, he doesn’t care what answer Bucky gives him. He wants Bucky in any way that he can get him and he knows that Bucky often faces the same sort of problem while trying to decide. 

Bucky thinks about it for a heartbeat, then his blue eyes pull themselves away from the green above him and to Steve. His hand is still in his hair. “Want you to ride me,” Bucky decides with a naughty little smile. Steve just grins at him, surges in over Bucky to kiss him deeply. Bucky parts his lips and their tongues meet just for one hot instant before Steve pulls himself away again.

Steve lets go of Bucky’s cock which makes him whine a little bit in disapproval. Steve, however, just starts to unbutton his shirt and Bucky watches him with interest. He strokes himself as he watches Steve strip out of his shirt, unbutton his own long johns and push them past his shoulders. Steve unbuckles his belt and opens his jeans but only pushes them a little bit past his own hips. 

Taking a moment in chance, Steve strokes himself for the first time that day and shudders at the small flash of pleasure that shoots down his spine. He could continue but he doesn’t. Instead, Steve plants both of his hands on the grass and goes down onto his elbows. He takes over from Bucky and strokes his cock for him, leans in and licks his tongue from the base of it to the tip. 

Bucky groans again and tilts his head back once more. The hand that previously had been stroking himself now drops into Steve’s hair, grabbing hold of him but not guiding. Just wanting something to hold on to. Steve does it again and this time drags his tongue over the tip to taste the bit of precum that’s gathered there. He does all this while still watching Bucky, watching how his chest rises and falls and keeps his eyes there for the moment that he decides to watch, just so they will look one another in the eyes. 

Bucky lets out another soft little moan and Steve feels a twitch in Bucky’s hips from where he wants to thrust his hips up. He doesn’t push him down, instead he gives Bucky something more to want. Steve licks his lips, making them all wet, before he slides them over the tip, taking Bucky in his mouth. Bucky groans deeper at that. There’s a sharp little tug at Steve’s scalp from where Bucky pulls at his hair but Steve lets him do that as well. 

Steve sucks at the tip and coaxes another one of those deep groans from Bucky and loves how he instantly relaxes again after it with a sigh. Bucky is better at taking it easy in these sort of situations than Steve is. Steve gets eager too quickly and too fast, wanting everything at that single moment in as much stimulation as possible. Whereas Bucky can be the devil and drag it all out, so long and so slowly that it almost becomes painful and nearly makes him cry. But the payoff, oh the payoff is so much better. 

Steve groans around Bucky at the thought, his own cock aching and hard, wanting to be touched so badly, but instead just remains in between Bucky’s legs. Steve stops to suck at the tip and then starts to bob his head up and down. They’re away from camp and they have nothing to use, meaning he wants to and will get Bucky so wet and dripping that they won't even notice they’re missing something. 

“God Stevie, fuck look at you, you’re doing that so good,” Bucky praises him and Steve opens his eyes again. He meets Bucky’s eyes staring down at him with his teeth biting down on that swollen lower lip, making it seem dark red rather than pink. “Fuck, feels so good Stevie, jesus,” Bucky groans again and Steve can feel that same sort of twitch in Bucky’s hips again. Once again he does nothing to stop it. 

Steve strokes one of his hands down Bucky’s thigh, feeling the soft hairs under his touch while the other is wrapped firmly around the base of Bucky’s cock. Steve bobs his head up and down a few more times before pulling back and sucking at the tip. Deep from his chest, Bucky groans again and gives Steve’s hair a tug. “C’mon Stevie,” he mutters out in between another groan. “Don’t want to ruin all the fun now, do we?” Bucky sounds both incredibly cocky and hot when he mentions it. 

Steve pulls away obediently, licking his lips. There’s a strain in his jaw but not one that makes him want to stop. Quite the contrary. Steve quite enjoys the feeling that he gets after a while. It almost feels like a reward for his good work, knowing that Bucky had a chance to enjoy himself like he did. 

Bucky sits up straight and Steve rises to kiss him, moaning a little when he feels Bucky’s hands on his abdomen and then pushing more of Steve’s pants and underwear down. With a bit of a struggle, Steve strips out of them fully and straddles Bucky’s legs. He takes his own cock in his hand and gives himself a stroke, all while Bucky shifts a little closer. In between them, Bucky’s cock is shining with saliva, ready for Steve even if he has to wait. 

“Take it easy, okay?” Bucky asks before spitting in his hand. He moves it in between Steve’s legs and to his ass. Steve shivers a little in anticipation when he feels one of Bucky’s fingers against him. “We don’t got any good stuff with us so we’ll make due with this but talk to me, okay?” Bucky asks him. Steve nods his response, knowing that he won't get anything from Bucky unless he does. 

Sure enough, Bucky pushes a finger inside of Steve. It doesn’t go so smoothly but it works. Steve bites on his lip and closes his eyes, willing himself to stay relaxed and take all of what Bucky’s willing to give him. He’s impatient now and in a way that helps a little, for the most part. 

“Okay?” Bucky asks him and raises his eyebrows as he waits for Steve’s confirmation while slowly pumping his finger in and out of Steve to get him used to the sensation. Steve nods again, breathing a little heavier now. Bucky’s second finger slides in with more of a burn and Steve tenses up, causing Bucky to stop. “Shhh,” Bucky hushes him, kissing Steve sweetly in the middle of his throat and strokes his other hand up Steve’s arm. Steve puts his arm around Bucky’s shoulders and rests their foreheads together and relaxes again. 

Bucky doesn’t move his hand again until after Steve kisses him once more. It still hurts a little but not too much. Not enough to have it constantly lingering in the back of Steve’s head, a constant sensation keeping him aware of it. It doesn’t work like that, it does feel good and before long, he moans softly, kissing Bucky with more eager. He can feel how the other smiles in the kiss, content with himself and the reaction that he’s coaxing out of Steve. Then, much to Steve’s dismay, Bucky pulls his hand away. 

Steve whines a little, wanting something inside of him again. But Bucky just spits on his fingers again and then they’re right back where they belong. Two fingers slide in with such remarkable ease now that Steve groans from it, grinding down a little on Bucky’s hand. He’s getting real impatient now. So when Bucky moves in a third finger, Steve moans again, a little louder this time and by now steadily rocking his hips against and in unison with Bucky’s hand. 

“You ready for me, sweetheart?” Bucky asks, leaving a gentle trail of kisses down Steve’s neck and down his shoulder where he nips at the freckled skin. Normally Steve enjoys it when Bucky bites him but now isn’t the time for that. Clint and Natasha will be able to tell and at least that much Steve wants to keep a secret for them. And the mood just doesn’t sit right for it either. 

“Yes,” Steve tells him although he knows that it’s a little bit too soon. But frankly, he doesn’t really care. He wants Bucky and he wants to feel him. And if he’ll have to take that with a bit of a burn and pain, then he will. It wouldn’t be the first time. “Yes, c’mon I want you.” Steve swallows, his tongue feels thick and he kisses Bucky again. Bucky the bastard smirks in their kiss once more. 

He pulls his hand out and spits into it a third time. Now however, Bucky strokes himself, spreading the spit over his cock and lays back down in the grass. Steve lifts his hips up and moves closer, more aligned with Bucky’s hips. 

Steve reaches behind him to line Bucky up, grinning down in anticipation when he feels the tip of Bucky’s cock against him. Underneath him, Bucky is grinning up at him, stroking his hands up and down Steve’s thighs. With an expression that contains nothing but adoration and love for Steve, making his heart flutter at the thought. “C’mon now,” Bucky urges a little, stroking his hands dangerously close to Steve’s cock. “C’mon, sweetheart, come on. Ride me like I know you want to,” 

Still holding Bucky’s cock behind him, keeping him in line and pressed up against Steve, Steve starts to lower himself. He lets out a little gasp for breath and shuts his eyes, tilting his head back a little as he feels how the tip slides inside of him. Bucky lets out a fantastic little moan as his hands grip Steve’s hips but they don’t pull him further down. The grip, however, is strong and sharp, just how he likes it. 

Steve groans and continues to lower himself. Bucky stretches him and it does hurt a little. But like Bucky’s fingers, it’s not unbearable. By the time that Steve has fully lowered himself on Bucky, his breathing is ragged and he wants to move, wants to feel more of it. He curses, places both of his hands on Bucky’s legs behind him and moves his hips a little. It’s nothing more than a grinding movement but it has Steve moan with the sensation of Bucky finally  _ in _ him again. 

It’s been too long and Steve hadn’t fully realised how much he’s missed it until he now has it again. 

“Fuck,” he groans again and speeds up a little. Bucky moans as well, the grip on Steve’s hips remain as strong and as sharp as before. But now with Steve moving on top of him, Bucky guides him a little, helps Steve settle in a pace all while moving his hips along. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Bucky blurts out and groans again, moving his hips up against Steve a little harder now. Steve lets out a slightly higher moan and lets go of Bucky’s legs. He straightens himself up and starts to move a little faster. The pace is still calm, there’s still an ease to it that Steve doesn’t want to chase away. Now is not a time to fuck, to screw one another until Steve certainly will still feel it for the rest of the week. No, now he just wants to feel good with Bucky. “Jesus, you’re so tight,”

Steve giggles a little at that comment. For some reason he can’t help but wonder if Jesus really would approve. But it doesn’t matter. The thought is forced out of his head when Bucky thrusts inside of him and he moans again. “Again, Buck. Again please,” Steve tells him and Bucky happily obliges, making Steve moan a little louder again. 

He starts to move his hips a little faster, getting more wound up now, and leans forward. Placing his hands on either side of Bucky who slides a hand up Steve’s side, over his chest and to his neck, pulling Steve down to kiss him. Steve goes willingly, letting the movement of his hips come to rest for a moment as he parts his lips for Bucky’s tongue. 

Bucky drapes his heavy arms around Steve’s back and keeps him close, shifts his legs a little to gain some footing and starts thrusting into Steve at a harder pace. Steve lets out a little whimper in their kiss. A hand comes over one of his asscheeks and grips it, pressing Steve down a little against him. In between them, Steve’s cock is pressed hard against Bucky’s abdomen and with the steady movement of Bucky’s hips, Steve feels a friction that’s positively maddening and makes him a little bit weak in his legs. 

Bucky breaks their kiss to groan. Steve moans as well, following with short gasped little moans at every single thrust that he gets, feeling Bucky so well and envisioning the sight of Bucky fucking him like this. It chases stars into his vision as Steve tenses up, feeling how he’s being brought closer and closer to his own climax. 

Bucky seems to notice it because he doesn’t stop despite his pants, despite the hot almost humid feeling in between them in the early summer. The way the air grows thick in between them and how it’s hard to breathe, to think, to do anything. 

Steve’s orgasm, while building slowly, hits him suddenly. He cums with a strangled cry against Bucky’s shoulder, feeling the sticky sensation of cum in between their stomachs and chests, tensing up around Bucky and being so aware of how he feels inside of him. How much he’s missed that these past few weeks. 

Bucky growls at the tight feeling of Steve around his cock and once Steve’s ridden out his orgasm, he slows down his thrusts, allowing himself to catch his breath for a moment. His own orgasm has been building steadily but has yet to be reache. He’s breathing heavily and strokes his fingers through Steve’s hair which is beginning to get damp with sweat. Somehow, Bucky finds Steve’s lips and kisses him. All soft and sweet.  

“That what you wanted?” Bucky asks him, smirking to himself as he strokes a finger over Steve’s cheek, a soft but sweet gesture that makes Steve fall in love with him even more. Steve chuckles a little, finding it hard to think of the right words to respond to Bucky. Talking in general seems to be difficult now. And when he swallows, his throat still feels thick. 

“Yes,” Steve whispers in return and kisses Bucky again. Deep and loving. Not at all ashamed over his quick orgasm. “Tell me what you need?” Steve nips at Bucky’s ear, then kisses the skin of his neck and strokes his nose over it. Very much aware that Bucky didn’t even get his climax yet. He strokes his hands over every inch of Bucky’s body that he can find, rocking his hips just a little to give Bucky something in the meantime. 

“Keep riding?” Bucky asks him, hopeful of it. Steve grins and kisses him before straightening up, offering all of his muscles and upper body on display. He’s not hard anymore but he hasn’t gone soft yet either. His cock is just simply resting against Bucky’s stomach, still thick and large, traces of Steve’s cum spread all over Bucky’s chest. 

Steve starts to ride him again, moaning filthily to put on a little bit of a show. Bucky bites down hard on his lip and Steve sees how it turns from that wonderful pink to a deep red again. Steve moans again and Bucky grabs his hips, guiding Steve into the pace that he wants. And Steve, of course, keeps it up for him. Steve drags his fingers up his own stomach and chest, stroking up some of his cum and bringing them to his lips, eagerly sucking them clean, licking in between the digits all while staring at Bucky who lets out a deep groan at that. 

“Fuck, you feel so good Bucky. Fuck, I’ve missed this so much. I’ve missed your cock inside of me like this, it feels so fucking good,” Steve groans and keeps spilling filth. It makes Bucky’s cheeks turn a little bit pink in arousal, making him look absolutely adorable underneath him, even if Bucky would never want to admit it. Bucky’s nails dig into Steve’s hips and he gasps. Steve only has to move on top of Bucky for another minute like that, purposely clenching a little around Bucky, before he cums with that deep shudder of a groan. 

The grip on Steve’s hips grow stronger and then relaxes. Bucky’s hands let go of him and the palm of his hands come to rest against Steve’s thighs again. Steve catches his breath for a moment and then looks back down to the man that he loves. Steve grins down to him, then leans back in over him and kisses him, lightly and sweetly, wanting nothing more than feeling the other’s lips against his own. 

“I needed that,” Bucky whispers to him, stroking the soft skin on Steve’s thighs as he kisses him sweetly. Steve hums in both agreement and pleasure, happy that Bucky enjoyed himself. He looks more relaxed now and his smile is both big and genuine. 

“Good,” Steve murmurs against the skin of Bucky’s forehead and kisses him too. “I needed that too, I missed you.” He sighs again, brushing his fingers lightly over Bucky’s cheek. “Don’t be jealous tonight, okay? I’d rather be with you anyhow,” Steve tells him and tilts his head a little to watch Bucky. 

Bucky is still for a moment and then with a sigh, he nods and forces a smile to Steve. He’s not happy about it, not by far. But the smile tells Steve all that he needs to know and that is that Bucky is going to try. “Alright, I won’t be.” They both know that it’s a blatant lie but that doesn’t matter. Bucky’s going to try and that's what matters. 

 

\--

 

Steve didn’t expect much out of Old Ridge. In fact, Steve thought that he and Natasha would be sat on their own by a table having some soup and stale bread that he’d rather not pay for while the men in the saloon would look like everyone  _ but _ Bucky. So no, he didn’t expect much of Old Ridge. 

That was so to speak, until a man stumbles in near the end of the evening just before they’re about to call it a night. Brown hair, muscles shaping a back that looks… passably familiar. ut Steve is picky and he knows that he is the only one in the world who could trace out Bucky’s back perfectly because of the amount of time he’s spent staring at it, kissing it and drawing it. 

The man is a little bit thinner than Bucky but he has the same brown hair, although not as greying as Bucky is and has more of a chestnut colour to it, still noticeable under his hat. His hands are about the same size but when he turns and looks around in the saloon, Steve spots that his eyes are brown and not Bucky’s steel blue. 

So Steve looks over to Natasha who settles in her chair for a while longer so they can overhear any hints of who the man is and what he’s here to do. Luckily for them, once he starts drinking, he’s a loud man. He declares up and loudly that he’s in Old Ridge to get away from his wife who keeps on nagging at him to fix things around the home for a little while. Things he always was going to do, when he felt like it of course, and didn’t it kill the mood when the wife asks for it, he asks around in the saloon. Some of the men agree and some think that he’s talking absolute bullshit. 

The man, named Hamish, declares that he’s only in Old Ridge for the night, that he’s going to ride even further East away from the spitfire of a wife come dawn and put more distance in between them. Before he heads upstairs with one of the establishment ladies, he declares to never marry a redhead which earns an amused expression from Natasha though he seems not to have noticed her at all.

When they ride back, Natasha puts her arms tightly around Steve and hugs him as not to fall off. They arrive back at camp less than half an hour later, Lily being damp from exertion of carrying two people on her back and makes a delighted noise when Natasha slides off first, followed quickly by Steve. 

“We find Bucky. One night, we find him,” Natasha declares proudly to the two men sitting around the fire waiting up for them. Bucky is reading a bit and Clint, well, when Steve comes up to the fire he isn’t sure Clint is even doing anything at all. “One night, he leaves tomorrow dawn. Must get him then. Don’t know where he goes.” Natasha adjusts her dress and sits down beside Clint. 

“Will he do?” Bucky asks, looking at Steve for his answer as if he knows just as well that only Steve would be able to pick out a worthy replacement for him in the switcheroo. Steve nods and smiles a bit. 

“He’ll do. Brown eyes but he’ll do. They won’t know,” Steve assures him, feeling bright and excited now that they have two people. He tries not to think about the fact that they’ll have to kill them. And these are murders entirely for selfish reasons. Those murders will leave blood on their hands that they’ll never be able to wash off. Those two men won't be shooting back, they’ll be put down for having done nothing at all. Even dogs have to bite someone first before they’ve earned a bullet. 

“Then he gets the bullet in the face,” Clint declares with no hint of remorse. “Get some sleep then, everybody. We got an early morning and a long day. We should get Steve’s clone on the first night after and drag him away.” 

 

\--

 

After having argued for five minutes upon realizing that the road splits into two different routes upon leaving Old Ridge, they settle the two teams. Natasha and Steve split up from one another as they are the only ones who will recognize Hamish. For reasons that Steve can’t quite understand, Clint is against the fact that Bucky and Steve team up together. In the end, after Natasha puts her hand over his, he relents and lets Steve and Bucky take the most southern route to put their little ambush. 

“It’s only cause you can shoot, Barnes,” Clint warns them before he and Natasha ride off to set their ambush on the Northern route. Bucky does his best to ignore him but Steve can see the tension in his jaw even in the faint moonlight. Steve prompts him to get moving and they do. 

Waiting in an ambush is boring, cold, and wet work. As the sun begins to rise, the dampness of the grass and bushes creates a bit of a fog. It’s still easy to see though but it soaks through their clothes and chases a chill into their bones. Well, mostly Steve’s at least. Bucky is better at it. He lays down in the grass, puts up his rifle, and then remains unmoving, pulls up his bandana to cover the lower half of his face and keeps his eyes on the road, only talking to Steve in a hushed whisper. 

They wait from three in the morning and not long after, the sky begins to brighten. From that point onward, Bucky is beginning to get impatient. Thinking that in his eyes it is dawn already and that Hamish should ride by soon, only reminds him that it can take a while longer and Hamish might not even pass them. He might be taking the Northern Route and fall into the ambush that Clint and Natasha set for them. 

Bucky mutters that he really hopes he doesn’t. Because wants to be certain. Steve decides not to remind Bucky of Clint’s marksman skills. Knowing that it’s the last thing that Bucky wants to hear right now. 

After waiting for maybe an hour, the sky getting brighter by the minute, they hear hoofbeats. Steve rolls over from his back to his stomach and puts an arm around Bucky. Doing so gently so he doesn’t mess up Bucky’s line of sight of the man. He’s not certain that it’s Hamish at first. It’s hard to tell with the coat that he’s wearing which seems a bit unnecessary considering the heat from the previous day. But everything in his gut tells him that it is Hamish. 

“That’s him,” Steve whispers in Bucky’s ear and feels how the muscles in his back shifts. The muscles that are so very different from Hamish but yet outwardly look relatively the same. Bucky starts to move his rifle along, keeping his aim on the man. Slowly, he places his finger on the trigger and then, he softly presses it down. 

There’s a loud bang and everything moves fast and slowly at the same time. For a moment, it feels like the horse Hamish rides on floats and the man doesn’t even have the chance to react. Even if he could, what would he have done? The bullet that Bucky fires hits him exactly where Bucky wanted it to. Steve can tell by the way the corner of Bucky’s lips twitches upwards just the slightest bit. 

With the force and impact from the bullet, Hamish is thrown sideways and off his horse. Landing with a dull thud to the side of the road, skids a little and drops down into a ditch. The horse screams and sets off in a gallop, kicking its hinds legs wildly before dashing off fully. “C’mon we gotta hurry,” Bucky hisses and pushes himself up. He whistles sharply to call Bo, making Steve’s ear hurt, and races down the little hill he’s perched himself up on. 

Steve whistles for Lily himself, pulls up his bandana just in case, and follows Bucky down. They work together with such ease that it’s almost as if they’ve practiced it. By the time they both make it down to the man, Bo has already come up to them and knows exactly what he has to do, turning his side to the both of them. Lily stands a bit further away, nervous from the scent of blood. 

Together, Steve and Bucky hoist the corpse of Hamish up and toss him over Bo’s rump who doesn’t react and remains perfectly still despite the sudden weight on top of him. Bucky secures his rifle on the saddle and Steve does his best to kick enough dirt and rocks over the trails of blood on the path, grabbing a fistful of dirt old dried pine needles from the previous autumn and scatters it. When he’s pleased enough, he mounts Lily. 

“Let’s go,” Bucky hisses harshly, not to stress Steve, not because he thought that Steve was moving slowly. But because he’s scared and he wants to get out of here before anyone investigates the sound of the gunshot. He turns Bo and sets him instantly into a gallop. Steve doesn’t even have to do the same for Lily. Her pack instinct instantly makes her follow Bo and match his pace. They ride hurriedly up the road, hoping that it stays safe from the opposite direction and then take the first cut into the woods they can.

It’s not an easy way to ride through the woods but now with the sun rising fully in the sky, they can see at least. And there won't be anyone crossing their path. It goes slowly, however, and it takes them four hours before they reach the camp again. By the time they do, the sun is high in the sky again and the heat has almost reached unbearable. Steve has a bit of a headache and his stomach is growling. But luckily, when they appear at the edge of camp, Clint and Natasha are already back and are cooking them breakfast or lunch, Steve doesn’t really care. 

When they see them ride into the camp and spot the body behind Bucky, they both clap their hands and grin widely. 

“One down, one to go!” Clint declares with a smirk. 

 

\--

 

The drunkard that Clint spotted turns out to be much, much easier than Hamish. That very same evening when he’s on his way back to the ranch after an evening of drinking, he actually does trip over his own feet nonetheless and falls face first on the dirt road. He groans a bit, rolls over onto his back and then promptly passes out. It’s almost funny to watch. 

Clint and Bucky race to grab him and drag him off the road into the bushes. And from there, the three men work together to get the Steve lookalike to the camp. Natasha just wanders behind them. Once at the camp, Clint and Bucky put him up against a tree, Clint takes out his revolver and bounces a few steps back before aiming, then he pauses. “Steve, take off your shirt,” he says and rests his revolver against his shoulder, stretching his arms and looks at Steve. Steve just points to his chest. 

“My shirt?” he asks, confused, Clint nods again and then to the man. Whatever he’s thinking, Natasha seems to know because she steps forward to the stranger and kneels down in front of him, unbuttoning his shirt. 

“We gotta bring him in in your clothes. I know it probably won't matter but I want to be sure. It’ll be odd if we bring him in with bullet wounds in his chest but with an intact shirt that’s all,” Clint explains. Steve casts a look to Bucky who just shrugs. Steve sighs and unbuttons his shirt, a little bit annoyed because he likes that shirt, and passes it over to Natasha. Within a moment, she has the shirts swapped out and buttoned, then she stands up and offers the shirt of Jonah to Steve instead. He takes it but after a whiff of it decides not to wear it. 

With his tongue past his lips, Clint aims his revolver to the man again and fires three rapid shots. They all three hit Jonah in the chest and he almost jumps forward, eyes now wide open. He takes a strangled breath, blood already dripping from his mouth. He doesn’t cry out, he just looks confused down at his chest, touches it with his fingertips. Then he slides down to his side and forward with a thud and that’s that. Steve doesn’t have to go over and check to know that he’s taken his last breath. 

“Let’s get them tied up and on the horses,” Clint declares and holsters his revolver. “I want to get out of here tonight. With a bit of luck, we can make it to Missoula come morning and can grab a train there. Steve and Bucky, redress Bucky’s clone into his clothes. Do whatever you’ve got to do to make him look like the bastard, alright? Nat, do me a favour and bash a stone against his head once?” Clint commandeurs like he is the only one who knows what he’s talking about. Yet nobody protests. Not even Bucky who usually comments everything Clint does behind his back. 

Steve and Bucky work in silence, redressing the man into Bucky’s clothes which is a little bit of a problem considering the stiffness of the corpse. But they manage somehow without breaking any bones. Steve cuts his hair a little bit shorter to match Bucky’s length and when they’re done, they put a bag over his head and roll him over, tying him up properly with rope in a way that makes him easy to carry and can guarantee that he’ll stay put on the horse. 

Clint and Natasha finish Jonah not long after, having helped themselves to Steve’s clothes. They’ve dug out his hat and put it next to him as a reminder to take it along. Steve and Bucky watch them work from the sidelines for a moment before they’re told to pack enough of their stuff to make it believable. Bucky raises his eyebrows at that but then goes off to find something. 

Steve surrenders his revolvers which have his initials engraved in them. And very much against his will, Bucky hands over a rifle and two weapons as well, only keeping his shotgun. He packs together a small bag with a book he’s read so many times he’s grown sick of it. A picture of himself with a dog he had owned once upon a time that Steve never met, some clothes and a couple of his knives which is what he’s known for. Natasha checks his bag and approves of it. 

Steve has trouble filling his own, considering he doesn’t own that much. He gives up an old watch that he doesn’t use but what does the government know? He has no picture to surrender so it’ll have to do with the watch, the initials on his revolvers, and his flask. When he shows it to Natasha to get her approval, she makes a weak nod with her head, as if she expected more, then she looks up at him. 

“That,” she says and taps the cross hanging around Steve’s neck. She opens her hand palm up to Steve. “Give me,” 

“What, no?!” Steve argues instantly, taking the cross in his hand. “It was my ma’s, it’s the only thing I’ve got left from her. He can’t have it,” Steve declares and waves his other hand to Jonah, refusing to let his mother’s necklace to go with him. The thought tears at his heart. 

“Steve,” Natasha says softly, as if that helps anything. Steve shakes his head and takes a step back. No, he’s not giving the last thing that he’s got left of his mother to them, he’s not leaving that behind. When she died, they had nothing and he had to steal the necklace so they wouldn’t bury her with it. He had kept it hidden and safe through the orphanage, through all his years out and wandering with thieving bastards. He has always carried it against his skin and he doesn’t intend on stopping now. 

“Steve, it’s in your picture, people know you wear it, they think you’re religious,” Clint offers, still kneeling next to Jonah. “If we turn up with him not wearing it, then they will know and you two won’t be off the hook.” 

“So get another,” Steve bites back at him. “He’s not taking that from me, it’s me ma’s and I am going to keep it, he’s not taking it,” Steve says, squeezing the necklace so tight that it makes his hand hurt a little. Bucky comes up beside him and places a hand on Steve’s shoulder but he says nothing. Instead, he just squeezes it, offering his comfort. 

“Yours says S. Rogers on the back,” Bucky whispers beside him. Steve knows he’s not doing it to convince him or to take their side or anything but that doesn’t make it feel any less like a stab in the back. Bucky is just stating facts. Bucky is just saying what Clint and Natasha are thinking, he’s saying the  _ reason _ why they need Steve’s cross and can’t just buy another one. 

“So get another one and fucking engrave it in, I’ll give you the money for it!” Steve pleads at them both, hating the desperation in his voice as he does. But he knows it’s futile. Just engraving S. Rogers won't trick them. Where the hell are they going to get a cross like his? It came with his mother all the way from Ireland. All the way from her home village and has more intricate engraving around the edges. They won't be able to get a second one and wear it down nearly thirty-five years in less than a week. “Please,” he begs Natasha. 

Natasha looks torn, she looks over her shoulder to Clint who’s still kneeling next to Jonah, now finished and tied up. Clint is holding a bag in his hand, waiting for the necklace before he puts it on. She looks back at him and Steve can tell that it bothers her to ask for it so he tries again, one final time. “Please.” Bucky’s grip grows a little bit harder on his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry,” Natasha says softly, she raises her open palm again for him. Steve looks down at it and swallows. There’s a large ball in his throat that makes it hurt. He blinks rapidly, eyes now starting to water. He lets go of the cross and pulls the necklace over his head. He looks at it one last time but tries not to think of it that way. He sniffs and wipes at his eyes, turning the cross over in his hand and looks at the engraving. S. Rogers. Sarah Rogers, not Steve Rogers which everybody always seemed to believe at first. Just Sarah Rogers, a sign that she had lived at all. 

He presses the engraving to his lips for a kiss and then, with a shaking hand, he surrenders the necklace to Natasha’s stark white palm. Her fingers close over to it, hiding it from Steve for him to never see it again in his lifetime. 

She turns and walks over to Clint. Steve can’t bear to watch as she hands it over so he turns away. Right into Bucky’s arms who knows exactly what he has to do and holds him tightly. Steve doesn’t cry but he holds onto Bucky as if his life depends on it. Steve doesn’t see the entire exchange but Bucky does. He sees how Natasha hands Clint the cross and how he puts it around Jonah’s neck, then puts the bag over his head and ties it shut with a rope. 

“Now,” Clint says when he’s finished and stands up, wiping his hands clean of the blood on his jeans. Steve lets go of Bucky and sniffs again, wiping at his nose and stares what he hopes is daggers right onto Clint. If he notices, Clint doesn’t show. He does give them a forced smile and claps his hands together. “This isn’t going to be popular either but we’re going to take your horses.” 

“Excuse you?!” Bucky exclaimes with fury laced into both words. Clint gives Bucky that forced smile. 

“We’re going to take your horses. People know what horses you ride, we’ll come across as very believable. Half the lie will be told when they see Lily. She sticks out, she’s special like that with her dots. And Bo? He’s going to be the one selling the lie when he tries to bite and kick who ever takes  _ you _ off him. He’s got a distinctive personality. We’re going to take the horses,” Clint begins softly but the more he speaks the more assertive his voice becomes. By the time he’s finished speaking, he’s left no chance for Steve and Bucky to argue. 

Steve just stares at Clint, daring him to repeat what he just said. Clint doesn’t do that but he stares down Steve with spine and doesn’t back down. Nor does he change what he just said. Steve doesn’t want to give up Lily, he’ll miss her with all of his heart for the rest of his life, he knows that. Just as he misses the other horses he’s owned and bonded with in his life. But Bucky, he knows Bucky wont take to it as well as Steve is. 

In a way, Bo is to Bucky what Sarah Rogers’ crucifix is to Steve. And he’s too numb after giving that up to them to take in what it truly means to hand over Lily. Somehow he trusts them with his horse, he knows that Natasha will look after her well, and he knows they’ve already reached a form of a bond of their own during the time they camped together. 

“You’re not taking him,” Bucky retorts, almost childishly with clenched fists. There’s a tremble ghosting over Bucky and then he gives Clint a lecturing finger. “You hear me? You’re not taking him!” 

“We are,” Clint says and remains unmovable, not bothered by the finger that’s being pushed in his face as both a lecture and a threat. “We’re taking them tonight. Take a moment with them, say your goodbye’s.” With that said, Clint dares to turn his back towards Bucky and walks away. For a moment, Steve almost thinks that Bucky is going to pull out a knife from his belt and throw it into Clint’s spine but he doesn’t. Instead, he looks at Steve with hope in his eyes, tears threatening to well up. 

“He can’t take them, Steve tell him,” Bucky tries, his own final desperate attempt to keep hold of what he holds dear. But just like Bucky didn’t find any arguments for Steve to keep his crucifix, Steve can’t think of anything that’ll allow them to keep their horses. Bo and Lily are recognizable and distinguishable. Clint and Natasha both have a point in wanting to take them along. So Steve just stands there sheepish and casts Bucky a sad look. 

“Say your goodbye’s. We’ll give you a moment,” Clint repeats with his back turned to them, not even bothering to look them in the eye. Somehow Steve believes that this is the part that Clint has the most difficulty doing. With a sigh, Steve reaches out for Bucky and takes his hand. He gives it a squeeze and forces a smile for him. Trying to will himself to seem strong and composed for Bucky because that’s what he needs. Bucky always gets attached to animals and he’s always broken when they have to leave some behind, put some under the ground and now give them away. 

“C’mon.” Steve gives a light pull at Bucky’s hand to get him moving and somehow expects it to be difficult. Yet with surprising ease, Bucky takes a stumbling step forward and walks over to his horse. He lets go of Steve’s hand and reaches them before Steve does, powered by something that Steve isn’t entirely sure what is.

Bucky hugs Bo’s head against his chest and brushes his fingers through his mane, whispering to him, kissing him in the middle of his forehead. Bo nickers as if he responds to what Bucky has to say and blinks tiredly. Steve tunes it out and allows Bucky a little bit of privacy as he bids goodbye to his horse. 

Lily, unsuspecting of what’s about to happen, just raises her head happily when he appears and seems content to see him. It makes tears prick in Steve’s eyes. Saying goodbye to her tears more at his heartstrings than he thought it would. He presses his face into her long and muscular neck, smelling her and stroking his fingertips around the edges of her many many black spots. 

“Hi baby girl,” Steve whispers to her and smiles at her through his tears that are threatening to spill. “You promise me you’ll be good to them, alright? Natasha’s going to look after you for a little while okay, and she’ll do a real good job of that, I know she will. So you promise me you’ll behave, okay? I’ll miss you.” Steve presses a kiss against her as well and then steps away. He collects her saddle and puts it on her back, deciding that he’ll give himself the privilege of saddling her for the last time that she’s in his presence. 

Bucky’s goodbye takes longer and it isn’t until Steve has saddled Lily and put on her bridle that he finally pulls himself away from his horse. Steve leads Lily away, giving Bucky some peace and a chance to hide his bloodshot eyes from the world for a moment longer. Steve passes over the reigns to Natasha and then helps Clint putting Jonah over Lily’s saddle and tying him up. When Steve looks back at Bucky, he sees that he’s nearly finished saddling Bo, just as well as Steve can tell that Clint is getting a little bit impatient. 

“Give him another couple of minutes,” Steve tries and shoots Clint a look who glares at Bucky. Together, they wait a while longer though it doesn’t make Bucky hurry. Eventually he's finished and comes over with Bo. Hands over the reigns to Natasha and takes a step back, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Steve and Clint while they put Bucky’s lookalike over the saddle. Bo’s ears are laying flat against the back of his head but whatever Natasha whispers to him in Russian seems to keep him somewhat calm. 

Before long, both dead men are tied up to their respective horses with the bags and with a rope Clint fabricated a lead for the horses to have them follow. Steve goes over to Bucky who’s sitting in the grass with his arms still folded, now resting onto his knees and sniffs occasionally. His eyes are as red as Steve imagined them to be but when Steve sits down beside him, he can sense that Bucky is beyond sadness. Bucky embodies seething rage instead. 

When they seem to be finished, Natasha mutters a few words in Russian to Clint who just nods. But it’s not until Clint responds to her in Russian that Steve gets an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. He doesn’t get much time to think about it however. Clint pulls out his revolver and aims it at both Steve and Bucky on the grass, giving Natasha the time to grab her shotgun. 

Bucky stands up quickly and takes three large steps towards Steve, making his heart freeze in the expectation that Clint will fire and shoot Bucky. But Clint doesn’t. “What the fuck are you playing at?!” Bucky shouts at Clint, the seething rage finally dripping over.

“Nothing personal man,” Clint starts, Natasha comes over to them, keeping her shotgun raised to Steve to keep him in place. “But we’re not idiots either. Give us your cash, the stones, everything, now,” Clint demands. And then the worst part of all, he nods over to the direction where Bucky buried their money and gems when they first arrived at the camp. 

“No,” Bucky says, standing firm. “You’re not taking that as well,” Bucky says, as if just speaking up against them helps anything at all. As if that will make Clint’s tail go between his legs and he’d turn and leave. Steve feels his back ache with anger. First his mother’s crucifix and then the horses. Now they want the savings that was meant to go to their new life. 

  
“Fine. Natasha?” Clint pulls out his second revolver and fixes it at Steve, keeping both of them locked in place. “Dig it up,” he tells her. With both Steve and Bucky kept down with a gun aimed at them, Natasha lowers her shotgun and goes to the tree where the treasure is buried. Steve’s heart beats in his chest. 

“You’re a fucking asshole, Barton,” Steve tells him, not taking his eyes off Natasha as she starts digging with her gloved hands. They didn’t bury the treasure deep, they wanted it easy to grab if they ever needed a quick exit. Knowing that and seeing that Natasha digs at the exact spot where the treasure is makes him hate the pair of them. 

“Yeah well, tell me something I don’t know.” Clint shrugs in response to Steve. “Nat, how are we doing, darling?” Clint asks while winking at Steve, only pushing to annoy him further. 

“Little bit more,” Natasha tells him and starts scooping out larger chunks of dirt from the hole she’s digging. Clint’s eyes glance over at Bucky again. Steve watches as Natasha then stops digging and grabs the handle of the small chest and tugs it out from the earth, feeling absolutely powerless. What on earth are they going to do? 

Shoot them? The guns they didn’t surrender are in their tent. And they don’t have the time to run around and go get them or Clint will shoot them in their backs. Turn them in for robbery? Not fucking likely then they’ll have to explain why Steven Rogers and James Barnes are still wandering the earth when they had been turned in dead. Sure, Clint and Natasha would get a sentence for robbery somewhere but it also means that Steve and Bucky would instantly be put to trial for their crimes and there goes their idea for a new life away from everything. Clint and Natasha have thought this through, he realizes. 

Natasha fires her shotgun once and blasts the lock off the chest. Not even bothering to ask if they’d give her the key. Steve wouldn’t and he knows that Bucky would sooner have spat on the ground in front of her feet before surrendering it. She opens the chest and looks around in it, she grins at Clint even though he can’t see it with his eyes still fixed on him. “Found it.” She gets up and leaves her shotgun by the chest, goes over to her horse and grabs a saddle bag. 

Natasha fills it within the minute, stuffing the wads of cash, the handful of necklaces, gems and watches in it. When she stands up, she takes her shotgun with her, throws the bag over the shoulders of her horse and mounts the stallion. “Ready,” she says and takes the reigns. Clint begins to walk backwards, still keeping aim of them. It occurs to Steve with the smooth way that Clint walks and the full trust he has in her that this isn’t the first time they’ve pulled a stunt like this. 

“It’s nothing personal, guys,” Clint says when he reaches his shire, lowers his revolver and in perfect unison, Natasha raises her shotgun. Watching Clint’s back when he mounts his horse. “Maybe we’ll see you again.” He salutes them, taps the flanks of his shire, and tugs at the rope. Lily, tied first, follows and Bo follows her. Clint drives them into a trot and Natasha keeps standing until the line has gone into the woods. 

“Sorry. Not personal,” Natasha tells them both as well as if that is any salve in the wound and then rides off, turning her back to them. Not surprisingly, the first thing that Bucky does with their backs turned towards them is take another couple of steps forward, scoop up a bunch of small pebbles from the riverside and starts to throw them one by one after them. 

“Fucking assholes!” Bucky screams after them, throwing pebble after pebble, bends down for another handful and throws them as well. “Fucking thieving bastards, I hope you get the fucking plague and you fucking rot till you die and that you fucking burn in hell! If I ever cross your path again, I’m going to fucking put you into the ground myself!” 

Steve sits down on the ground again and puts his head in his hands, taking a deep breath while Bucky continues to scream curses and threats into the dead of the night. He watches him for a moment and doesn’t stop Bucky even when ten minutes have passed. Even when Clint and Natasha are way beyond reach now and gone from them. He lets Bucky spill out his rage until he calms down on his own accord. 

And eventually, Bucky’s anger does ease. He stumbles backwards and sits down beside Steve, entirely out of breath. There’s a flush of dark red in his neck. Neither of them speak, making Steve wonder if Bucky too is thinking of how they’ll pull off their fresh start without all their money. How they’ll make due and how they’ll be able to buy a plot of land to live on? If they have to save up money by working then well, then it won't be this summer, that’s for sure. And where the fuck are they going to get jobs in Canada to last them through the winter and expenses for lodging? 

Steve tries not to think about it. The important thing is that they’re together. And Steve thinks they don’t really need more than that. Somehow, they’ll manage. “When you think about it,” Steve begins and breaks the silence between them. Bucky looks at him through the dark. Steve spots he still holds a pebble in his hand. “It’s not right what they did. Absolutely not. But… we’re free now,” Steve says and looks at him, smiles a little. “We’re free. We’re officially dead, no more wanted posters on our heads. We look different too, just new names, we’re close to Canada. We’ll slip across the border and… we’re free,” 

“Yeah…” Bucky says, shoulders relaxing just a little. “Yeah, you’re right, we’re free.” 


	5. Epilogue

All things considered, it could have gone a whole lot worse than it actually did. 

Sure, having all their money stolen wasn’t something that they had enjoyed. It had left them with a sour feeling knowing that Clint and Natasha got off with an additional $1000 dollars on top of the $1500 they’d earn on the fakes. But when they had read the headlines that Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes had been brought to justice and they learned that Clint and Natasha had kept their world despite their dirty trick, they did feel a bit better. 

They walked to Alberta Canada rather than ride so it took a lot longer than they had initially thought that it would. They hadn’t even realised they had crossed the border until they reached a town and learned where they were. Steve couldn’t remember ever seeing Bucky smile so wide.

Under the name of Grant Stevens, Steve got a temporary job at a ranch to put up a barn. The pay wasn’t that great but it offered something at least. Steve quite enjoyed the job and found that he had the proper hands to build something strong that would last for many years to come. Bucky, under the name of John Nevill, also got to work on the ranch but not with building. 

Instead, the ranch owner tasked him to ride in the horse he had gotten for his youngest son which proved to still be too wild. Bucky, who had missed Bo, had been looking forward to a challenge of the like. So he spent most of his days testing the horse, riding her in and teaching her the ropes. It came with many falls which Bucky only said was part of the job. But a few weeks in, he had calmed and trained the horse to be calm and mellow and then proceeded to give lessons to the ranch owner’s son. 

The man was a good man and happy with two proper workers. One evening when they were still at the ranch for dinner, he had asked Steve and Bucky for their plans and if he could interest them in staying on as ranch hands. He liked strong, dependable men, he said. Both Steve and Bucky had exchanged a look with one another before Steve had politely turned him down. 

They appreciated the offer, Steve had told him, but they were searching for a place to call their own. For a plot of land they could grow on and where they could make their own living. Something that Steve only oiled more by adding  _ like men do _ . The ranch owner understood and asked where they had considered.

Bucky had spotted a piece of land while tiring out the horse for the rancher’s son and said he wished to buy them that land. He thought it had potential. The earth wasn’t dry, there was a river running through so they could feed themselves. A clearing enough for the animals they had in mind and enough space for a garden. They didn’t wish for a massive Homestead, they wanted to keep something small so they could manage it on their own. And Bucky believed that plot of land would do them good. 

Steve was surprised at this piece of information, not having heard about it until that moment. But it seemed like the Rancher knew exactly what place Bucky was talking about and asked them if they had filed for a claim yet. The question stunned them both and they just stared at the man, not knowing what that was supposed to mean. So the Rancher explained that you did not just  _ buy _ land, you had to file a claim to the crown and be granted it. He also told them that he would help them, provided that Bucky would wrangle the worst horses when he got them in and that Steve would help him if he ever needed an extra hand. 

Steve and Bucky gave their word and the Rancher kept his. 

 

\--

 

The land was every bit like Bucky had said it was that evening. And upon wandering to it with Bucky for the first time, Steve instantly fell in love with it. The river wasn’t as wide as he had imagined it but it was nice and calm, offering nice ambience and just enough for Bucky to fish in. The land was flat and not unlike where they had stayed in Montana with a bunch of wildflowers and bushes. It needed a lot of work but now they had all the time in the world. So they set to work. 

The first thing they did was make a path from the main road to them, something that the rancher kindly loaned out two extra hands to take down trees and bring them over to where they planned on building their homestead. For the first two weeks, they had extra hands clearing out the land, making the path by constant back and forth, preparing the trees and digging up soil. 

They were also given a small loan which the Rancher expected to be paid back in with goods when they reached that point. With the loan, Bucky bought a good strong Ardenner from the rancher. A big, muscular horse with strong joints and a cart for it to pull. Multitask horse, Bucky called it. A little bit slow to ride compared to what they were used to but the horse could pull without ever getting tired. They named him Bruce. The next day, Bucky took the cart and Bruce and went to the auction while Steve stayed at home with the men on loan and tried to get as much work as possible done for the homestead. 

When Bucky returned in the evening, he came back with a rooster, three hens, five goats, and feed for the animals. Sitting beside him on the cart was a deep grey mutt that Bucky explained was a stray that he had picked up along the road. Steve could hardly deny Bucky that. So the stray stayed and proved to be a good girl and kept the hens from wandering off until they built them a pen. They named her Ellie. 

The last bit of money they had, they split up between the two workers who had helped them for the past two weeks as thanks and sent them on their way in the evening. When they sit on the deck a couple of evenings later, watching the sun set late in the evening over the trees, Steve feels content with himself. The goats are grazing, the hens are still wandering around but much slower. Beside Bucky is Ellie, laying down and eyes shut, panting after a hard day’s work. There is a burn in Steve’s muscles from building on their homestead which is far from finished but he feels convinced that with Bucky’s help, they’ll manage to finish it before the first snow. 

And judging by Bucky’s little smile that hardly ever seems to disappear from his features now. Hell, he has even grown sociable and laughs with men rather than sulk and keep quiet to himself, making people wonder if he was approachable to begin with. With a sigh, Bucky leans against Steve, moving an arm around his back and ghosting his fingers lightly over his side. He lights up as he rests his chin on Steve’s shoulder and looks at him. The shaven look and shorter hair suits him, Steve thinks. “Did you ever think we’d make it to this point? Honestly?” 

“We’re not there yet. We still got to survive the winter,” Steve teases him with a smirk. Bucky rolls his eyes, makes a noise, and pulls his arm back to shove Steve away from him. Steve breaks out in a fit of giggles and looks out over their goats. “No, I kept thinking we would. And then something new would happen and honestly… I didn’t think we’d make it across the border.” 

Bucky makes a noise, this time one in agreement with him and nods a little. “I didn’t think we’d make it out of the shootout with Rumlow’s folks, to be honest. I’m glad we did. And I’m glad we kept going,” Bucky says with a no, and this time, Steve slips an arm around Bucky’s back and tugs him in close. “I think… for the first time in our lives, we actually have the odds with us now. I think we can actually build something here.” 

Steve hums his response and places his head against Bucky’s shoulder. Looking over all that is theirs. It’s not much. The homestead still needs work but at least they’re sleeping in it, under their tent cover but in it. The ground is turned and rinsed of weeds, bushes and wildflowers and Bucky has pricked out where the shed for the goats has to go. Where the chicken coop will go. He’s pricked out where he’s going to attempt a vegetable garden the next year. He’s tossed out a net in the river to catch fish for them to live on. They’ve laid out traps in the woods for hares and it’s bursting with deer. They’re not going to starve. And by this time next year, they’ll be in a whole different position. “I think so too,” Steve agrees with him, squeezing Bucky’s side. 

“Hey, Steve?” Bucky whispers quietly, pressing his cheek against Steve’s head. He places a hand on Steve’s thigh and strokes it with his thumb. A soft and intimate gesture that means nothing more besides the very simple fact that Bucky just wants to touch him. Steve hums his response, pulling his thoughts away from  _ their _ land and  _ their _ future and  _ their  _ animals and  _ their _ shot at a real life. A life without guns, violence and murder. For the first time since faking their death, Steve feels like they finally have a shot at an ordinary, calm life and leave their past behind them. Maybe living as Grant and John is what they need to do. 

“I love you,” Bucky says in a soft tone. In Steve’s chest, his heart skips a beat at hearing it told so loud. Never once having heard it any louder than just a soft whisper. But of course, this is their land, it’s just them here. They don’t have to hide anything from people, they don’t have to hide anything from themselves. Bucky loves him and for the first time in the four years they’ve been together like this, they can say it out loud. 

“I love you too,” Steve says back to him. Speaking it into existence. Takes Bucky’s hand and squeezes it. 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is completed, and has it's final posting date on the 10th of June. It has four chapters and one epilogue, so I will be posting a chapter each Monday until then, and the epilogue along with chapter four. Thank you very much for reading and I hope you'll stick with CCW to the end!
> 
> \--
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> My artists [first art piece](https://whatthefoucault.tumblr.com/post/185023032426/cruel-cruel-world-im-moving-on-my-cap-reverse)!


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